Silver Fox
by ChaseASun
Summary: "Someday love will find you, and it will be when you least expect it."
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One – Sunday Lunch**

"Really Hermione, take another slice! You look as if you're wasting away."

"You do get enough to eat, don't you darling? We can always send you more money, if you need it. You can take it along to that lovely bank and-"

"Dad, honestly I'm fine." Hermione let her hand rest atop her fathers, giving him a gentle smile. All the while, her mother was serving up another slice of Victoria sponge cake. "I'm just so busy with work at the moment."

"Not too busy to see us though, are you love?" Mrs Granger topped up her the families cups with tea and replaced the cosy. "Although I must say, I am surprised."

Wiping crumbs from the side of her mouth, Hermione looked up.

"Why is that? I always visit on Sunday's."

It had become a tradition of sorts, since the modification charm had been lifted. Being reunited with their daughter had been hard at first, but once Hermione had explained that it had all been for the greater good, her parents had graciously accepted her deepest apologises. The Grangers had returned to their old home in Oxfordshire, England. Thanks to Hermione's ingenious spellcasting, the family home had remained exactly as it had the day that she had left, even the garden to her father's delight. The people in the cul-de-sac remarked on Mr and Mrs Granger's wonderful tans, how grown up Hermione looked, that the dentistry industry in Australia must be booming, and what on Earth had led them to come back in the first place. Mrs Granger just gave a knowing smile.

Every Sunday since their return, Hermione came over for Sunday lunch. There was always a tasty roast dinner and a pudding to follow, all the while accompanied by countless cups of tea. Hermione loved to help when her mother allowed her to enter the kitchen, thankful that there were no House Elves to trip her up, or insist she leave.

It was part of the reason that she had a simple flat in Muggle London. It was cramped, the hot water system was temperamental at the best of times, even with the interference of magic, and the only pet she had were the birds who rested on the window sill each morning. She had turned down the elegant home that the Ministry of Magic offered, choosing instead to keep her link to her heritage, her childhood, and for appearances sake, a young woman.

She could hardly have gone back to live with her parents, not after all that had happened.

Hermione watched as her mother sipped her tea, their eyes never quite meeting. Mr Granger idly flicked through a copy of the newspaper, occasionally chuckling as his eyes skimmed the section with the cartoons.

"Mum? Why are you surprised?"

"Well dear, it's just that most young girls would be out with friends, enjoying the sunshine. Nursing sore heads from a night on the town. Having a day out with a boyfriend-"

"Oh mum, please don't start this again!"

"I'm not starting anything, dear, I'm just saying-"

"I do have friends though! I always see Harry and Ginny for dinner and-"

"You never bring Ronald over anymore," her mother said quietly, breaking off a piece of sponge from the slice on her plate, and popping it into her mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and slumped back in her seat. "Mum, I told you. Ronald and I are just friends. It's all we ever have been, all we ever will be. And anyway, I don't need fixing up with a boyfriend. I've got too much on my plate with work at the moment."

"You're never too busy to find love."

"What if I don't want to find love?"

Hermione was tempted to kick the table leg, but no. She would not throw a tantrum like a child. This wasn't the first time that the conversation had been had around the dinner table, and the answer was always the same. She had grown used to be being the odd person out, she always had been, and supposed she always would be. Out of all of her girl friends, Hermione was the only one not to have a steady boyfriend - in fact, she didn't have a boyfriend period. She was perfectly happy as she was. And anyway, she lived vicariously through Ginny Weasley, who was only too happy to discuss her relationship with The Boy Who Lived. And although Ginny often mentioned her dear brother, there was no future for Hermione and Ron.

Mrs Granger glanced at her husband, who was still engrossed in the newspaper. A smile played about her lips, before she looked back at her daughter. Her brave, intelligent, beautiful daughter. "Someday love will find you, and it will be when you least expect it. Now come on dear, finish your cake, you're looking too thin for my liking. And then, I'll show you the new colour scheme for the living room. I've seen some lovely patterns, you'll love them all, I'm sure you will! You've done wonders with this dining room dear, much better than your father could."

"Bloody magic," Mr Granger mumbled, and held the newspaper higher to hide his grin.

* * *

In a Wiltshire manor house, a different type of Sunday lunch was being held. The dining room was now seldom used, and remained closed off, until a House Elf wandered in to open a window for a breath of fresh air. The same could be said for most of the rooms in the house, even though the House Elves dusted, polished and cleaned every day. Their work was never done, but the whole place neglected a woman's touch. They were forbidden from entering one particular room on the second floor - the door remained closed at all times.

Lucius Malfoy sat alone in his study. The starter of garlic mushrooms and main course of venison that a House Elf had brought him remained untouched. He had nibbled on the hard cheese and a few crackers at the insistence of the Elf, and when she had been about to leave, satisfied at least that he had tried some of the pudding, he had pushed aside the plate and poured himself another large glass of red wine. The Elf had frowned, her eyes downcast, but left Master Malfoy alone, lost to his thoughts. Again.

Outside in the hall, Cuba the Head House Elf, sighed and dropped her face into two frail hands.

"Not to speak ill of the Master, but what does he do in the room?" a young male Elf squeaked, tugging on the corner of Cuba's tea towel dress.

Cuba sighed. "He is sad. He is always sad."

"But why? Why should a wizard be sad?"

Cuba wiped a tear from the corner of her golf ball like eyes. She had been a personal House Elf to Master Lucius Malfoy since he had been a boy, and she had seen many changes come his way. His journey from headstrong handsome teenager, to a strong Ministry member, to eventual a husband and father, and finally into a discredited war criminal had been difficult and now, even more so.

When the lady Narcissa had left and decided to go back to using her maiden name, Black, Lucius had broken.

When the fateful news, heavily publicised trial and eventual entombment of young Draco in the wizard prison Azkaban, Lucius' soul had shattered even further.

The drinking was going to get out of hand sooner or later, and then, he would be gone. The Malfoy Manor would be left to rot, or to perhaps, the Ministry of Magic would turn it into a tourist hotspot on wizarding tours of England.

Cuba shuddered. She could only hope for change. And that it would happen sooner, rather than later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two – Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

For three days, Mrs Granger's words played on her daughters mind. Of course, it hadn't helped that a certain young woman had burst into Hermione's office very early on Monday morning. Her Holyhead Harpies Quidditch robes in disarray, red hair free of its professional looking plait and flying wildly behind her, Ginny Weasley begged and pleaded for her friend to take a coffee break, even though the day was just beginning. It was important, and couldn't wait. She had news. Nothing of an engagement or babies, but a surprise holiday to Switzerland. Harry had apparently arranged it months ago, and Ginny could not get over how incredibly romantic it would be.

By the time Hermione had gotten home later that night, she had a headache from Ginny's excited chatter. She couldn't blame her friend, she was happy for her, but sometimes she wished Ginny came with an off-switch. Exhausted, she forced herself to have a shower, and dress in her comfiest flannel pyjamas. Not feeling remotely hungry, she went straight to bed without any dinner, curling up on her side in the dark of the room. As soon as her pounding head hit the pillow, she was fast asleep.

When Tuesday dawned bright and early, Hermione's headache had disappeared and her hunger had returned. She tucked into a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast at the tiny kitchen table. Her milky coffee was sipped at the sitting room window, as she watched Muggles passing by on the street until she was ready to get to work. Once settled at her oak desk, she worked on law proposals all morning, only stopping for lunch with several of the others in her department. It wasn't until an afternoon meeting with the Disposal for Magical Creatures that she felt that her breakfast would return.

One of the committee members was leaning against a doorframe, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. On the front cover was a moving photograph of two people, writhing like eels. Turning her head to the side, she could see that they were in a tight embrace, almost becoming one. Lips fought for dominance, but the more that Hermione stared at the newspaper and the couple on its cover, the more that she recognised one of the figures.

The headline proclaimed: WEASLEY'S HEART UNBROKEN, and apparently, all the details were in a special pull-out edition inside. And what a surprise - Rita Skeeter was back up to her nasty habits. Trying to keep her head held high, Hermione ignored the nudges and whispers, choosing instead to continue with the meeting like a proper professional. She was a strong, independent woman, and she did not deserve to feel like this, all because the second member of the Golden Trio had found someone to love.

Hermione was thankful for a new day when Wednesday came around. Although the amount of inter-departmental memo's circulating her office made her feel awful. She could feel a headache starting, and if her supervisor looked in now, he would think that she wasn't working properly. Most of the memo's weren't even related to her job or any potential meetings that she had scheduled for the rest of the week. In fact, many asked about her feelings or they wanted the gossip about Ronald and the new girlfriend.

Throwing herself into her busy workload, Hermione worked with gusto. Summoning the necessary books she would need from the many shelves lining the wall, she cross checked necessary information and made requests for access various files. The room was soon filled with reams of parchment, her tiny writing slowly drying. Pots of different coloured ink levitated, and feathered quills bounced from open book to open book. When memo's landed in front of her, she quickly scanned them for information, plucking the most important from the air, and casting Incendio on those that speculated about her love life. Or lack of. In fact, so many of those came in that soon, the air in the office began to smell funny. She liberally spritzed the room with a bottle of perfume she kept in the top desk drawer, for special occasions.

Settling in her desk chair, she sighed. Today would go right, even if it killed her.

* * *

Standing in the foyer for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Lucius Malfoy felt decidedly uneasy. The last time he had been here, he had been appealing to the Wizengamot Administration Services on behalf of his son. And that had not exactly gone down well. His record was against him before he even entered the room, and it didn't help matters that Draco had broken the rules set out for him, before the trial had even happened.

"Foolish boy," he murmured.

A bump on his elbow brought his attention back to the matter at hand. The passing bearded wizard raised his hand in apologises, and hurried on his way, searching the pockets of his robes.

Lucius pulled out his own piece of parchment from the inside pocket of his smart black robe, scanning it, although he knew it by heart. The letters that he received always said the same thing, and it always arrived on the twenty-second day of each month – two days after Draco's imprisonment.

 _Dear Mr Malfoy,_

 _Due to the current circumstances surrounding Draco Lucius Malfoy, we are requesting that you attend a probationary meeting to discuss Dark activities of the past, present and future, in relation to your family._

 _This meeting will take place on 22 February at 2pm in the Offices of the Improper Use of Magic Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, at the Ministry of Magic._

 _Failure to attend may result in criminal charges._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Improper Use of Magic Office_

Lucius folded the letter into thirds once more, and stored it safely, before heading to the gentlemen's lavatory, to make sure he was presentable. He might have fallen from grace, but he shouldn't have to look like it.

He was a Malfoy, after all.

Staring at himself in the mirror above the sinks, he could see how haggard he looked. Maybe Cuba was right – maybe all this drinking was damaging him more than he initially thought. His cheekbones had hollowed and dark circles lingered under his eyes. His unkempt hair had lost its trademark silvery sheen, and was now tied back with a simple black velvet ribbon.

He once considered himself a handsome man. So handsome that letters from witches still arrived after his marriage to Narcissa, and the birth of Draco.

Now, the witches barely glanced his way…

Narcissa made it perfectly clear what she thought of him now, and at Draco's trial had not even given him a cursory glance. She had kept her eyes focused on her only son, her eyes only leaving him when he was dragged from the room.

Hell, even that Mudblood Granger kept her eye contact to a minimum on these monthly meetings, preferring to address the parchment instead.

Uncorking the vial of potion that Cuba had pushed into his hand this morning, he swallowed the Calming Draught in one go. He would need to keep his mind steady, and his head clear. He would not get angry, no matter what was said. He would keep his temper, and prove that he was reforming.

He could not put off the probationary meeting any longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – Polite Exchanges**

Lucius straightened his robes and exited the men's room. Clutching his cane tightly, more out of habit than anything, he strode along the corridor where Miss Granger's office was situated.

She had done well for herself, for a Mudblood. Nicknamed 'the cleverest witch of her age', Miss Granger had beaten Draco in every examination taken at school, fought against the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries during her fifth year, and emerged triumphant with Potter and Weasley at the infamous Battle of Hogwarts. Not surprisingly, Miss Granger had returned to undertake N.E.W.T examinations when Hogwarts was rebuilt and passed with flying colours. The Daily Prophet ran a large article when she entered into her first high profile role within the Ministry of Magic, with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. A mere year later, Miss Granger had entered the side of Law Enforcement. It was all very impressive, but Lucius had to wonder if they had been lenient on her, letting her slide through on account of who she associated with.

That being said though, the Daily Prophet had reported only yesterday of the news of Mr Weasley's burgeoning romance with half-Veela model and French socialite, Jeannette Oliver. Lucius had chuckled to himself and sipped his wine as Cuba read the article aloud. Once she had finished and left to prepare a meal, Lucius thought about sending the clipping to Draco along with his monthly permitted letter, but thought better of it. It would only enrage the boy, to see a Pure-blood traitor doing so well for himself, especially when he was trapped in a dank cell, with his thoughts for company.

According to the end of the article, there had been no comment on how Miss Granger had taken the news.

Perhaps she would be overly distracted by the drastic turnaround of events that their meeting would be cut short. That would be fine by him. The meetings were tolerable, but he still found it difficult to shake off the old ways. Here he was, a Pure-blood being chastised by someone of her heritage. He had to be civil and not speak out of turn – one tiny little slip up could find him sharing a cell with his son. He had been in Azkaban only once before after the mishap at the Ministry over the Potter boy prophecy, and that had been enough for him.

As much as he loved his son, he had no desire to return.

Finding himself outside of Miss Granger's office, he took a deep breath, and immediately started choking on the two distinct smells coming from within. There was no mistaking the smell left behind from the copious use of Incendio, but the other he could not put his finger on. Floral and sweet, but with an undertone of something entirely different.

Wafting a hand to clear the air, wishing that his wand was not down at the Security Desk in the Ministry Atrium for safety, Lucius knocked three times smartly on the door with the head of his cane.

"One moment," a voice called from within. A voice that belonged to Miss Granger.

From inside he could hear movement – thumps and the slamming of drawers, and the clatter of her sensible work heels across the polished wooden floor. He couldn't imagine her wearing the wonderful stilettos that Narcissa used to. Sometimes she would wear a shiny red pair when he took her to bed, and the heel would scratch his back... No, Miss Granger wouldn't ever do something so daring - it was unthinkable. It was laughable!

After a few more slams and bangs, the door finally opened.

"Ah Mr Malfoy. Please come in."

She stood to the side of the door to let him pass, and as he did, he caught that strange floral smell. Was that – no it couldn't be –

He turned with a sly smile as he reached the desk chair that never left the front of her tidy desk.

"Are you wearing perfume for me, Miss Granger?"

She pushed the door shut with a bang, and gave him a reproachful stare.

"Apparently not," he murmured, and took his seat. It would be a much longer meeting than he anticipated if her mood was anything to go by. He could already hear the strained conversation... Looking at her, Miss Granger's brown eyes looked heavy, and strands of lightly curled brown hair escaped the neat bun she had tied it into. Her face was pale, apart from the small blotches of red across her cheeks. Had Weasley and Oliver's relationship rocked her that much?

* * *

"And how have we been lately, Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked as she reached for a fresh quill and ink bottle from the little stationery tray on her desk. The Malfoy file was already before her. The file was almost the size of a small textbook, but it held much richer information. Especially if the wrong hands found it. Detailing the family, the file held three sections – one for Lucius, one for Narcissa (who was now going under the name Black), and finally, one for Draco.

Attached to the file with a small red paperclip was a moving photograph of the family. Taken only a week after the Battle of Hogwarts, Lucius looked older than ever - it was hard to believe it was the same man who visited her office monthly. In the photograph, Lucius was slumped in a chair in the centre of his family, reaching out to the photographer across a table, his wrists in shackles. Narcissa, meanwhile, had turned completely to the side, her head bowed. She stared into her lap, showing no sign of affection to the two men she was being photographed with. On the other side of his father, sat Draco. His sleeves were rolled up, showing the Dark Mark on his forearm, and his blonde hair was falling into cold, calculating eyes.

Considering that she, Harry and Ron had saved him and Gregory Goyle from death by Fiendfyre at the Battle of Hogwarts, he should have looked happier. Relieved. Then again, this photograph was old, and since it had been taken, there had been many trials – one of which Harry had vouched for Draco's innocence, along with his mother.

Looking up at Mr Malfoy for his answer to her very simple question, she found him staring down at the photograph. There was a glint in his eyes, one that was full of emotion and longing for his family. Quickly, she opened the file, jolting him out of his thoughts, hoping that he would not start to cry. She always felt so awkward when men cried, even though she had seen many do this. Flicking through the file to Lucius' section, she took the prepared parchment from her drawer, dipped her quill into the black ink, but still Mr Malfoy did not speak.

"Mr Malfoy?" she asked again. "Are you feeling okay?"

Still he did not answer. Hesitantly, she reached across the desk, her fingertips skimming his own. His hands were so pale, and yet, the nails were neatly trimmed with no sign of dirt or much. He had quite handsome hands really, when you conveniently forget that he was a Malfoy, and a Pure-blood supremacist to boot. Yet in all the interactions that they had had, it was today that she noticed the mark where his silver wedding band had once been. It was the first time she had really taken any proper notice of it, even though the divorce had been all over the Daily Prophet. Along with everything else that Rita Skeeter had dug up about the family…

She recalled Narcissa's haughty attitude in the photograph, as well as in all her probationary interviews. It seemed that she was over her marriage, working towards getting her new life on track, but it appeared that Lucius was not…

"Lucius?"

He seemed to realise she was speaking and moved his hand away. There was a curl to his lip, even though his eyes still held all the sadness that he continued to feel.

"Why Miss Granger, do you realise that was the first time you have called me by my name?" His voice was soft, almost gentle.

"There's nothing wrong with a polite exchange between us, is there?" She tried to give him a cheerful smile, but failed and withdrew her hand. He looked down at where it had been, and Hermione would have bet all the Galleons in Gringotts that after the meeting he would scrub his hand until it bled.

"Certainly not," he said, meeting her eyes. There was such an intensity there suddenly that Hermione found herself blushing, and the quill slipped from her fingers.

As she reached under the desk to grab it, she bumped her head, tears springing to her eyes, feeling like an absolute idiot. What the hell was happening to her? She hadn't behaved like this since Gilderoy Lockhart was her Defence Against the Dark Acts teacher in her second year! When she rose back into her seat, straightening her rumpled robes, she was surprised to see Lucius grinning to himself – a grin that did not look forced. Since when had that ever happened? The only time she recalled since a Malfoy male smile was when dastardly deeds were afoot.

Had the world gone crazy? Hermione sighed, before turning to him and repeating her question.

"Oh I'm quite well, Miss Granger. Quite well indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Thank you very much for all your alerts and reviews, it's really exciting to see you all so excited about my Lumione story! And yes eager readers who have been intrigued, you will get to know why Draco is imprisoned in Azkaban, but to be fair, there's more of his story to come... Call this the tip of the iceberg for what's to come.

* * *

 **Chapter Four – The Beetle is Back**

The rest of the meeting went down well, as far as Hermione was concerned. Seeing the photograph had seemingly loosened his tongue, and Lucius spoke, perhaps a little more freely, about how he was truly feeling. With a light smile, he added that he was not considering committing any further infractions, and Hermione caught herself laughing at what she hoped was a joke.

She found herself slowly warming to him, for she could understand what he was going through, to a certain extent. To have so much, and for it then to be pulled out from underneath him... To be lost and alone although there were people around you… It was like the last few years she had spent at Hogwarts, when she realised that Ron might not ever look at her as more than a friend. Back when she thought herself in love with him.

 _Could he really have changed?_ she thought to herself as she dipped her quill into the bottle of black ink. He was Lucius Malfoy after all – a man whose entire family scorned her bloodline and made a mockery of her friends. A man who had once aligned himself with the dark side of magic for a slim chance at glory. A man who stood by and watched her be tortured by his sadistic sister-in-law.

Underneath the sleeve of her robe, Hermione's fading scar tingled. The scar that Bellatix Lestrange had bestowed upon her, simply for having Muggle parents. A word that the mad woman had carved into the flesh of her arm with a silver knife, so that Hermione wouldn't forget who she really was in this world. What she was. What she would always be, no matter what happened to her.

Mudblood.

"Miss Granger, are you well?" Lucius' voice cut through her memories. He was leant forward in his chair, concern etched into his face.

 _He's concerned about me?_ That thought alone shocked Hermione to the core.

Tucking a strand of escaped hair behind her ear, she nodded, hoping that he was not a skilled Legilimens.

"I'm fine, Mr Malfoy. It's been a busy week, that's all."

"Maybe you should take a break sometime then. You don't want to burn yourself out, do you?"

She wasn't entirely sure, but was that a flirtatious tone in his voice? What a day this was turning out to be!

She opened her mouth to reply, but there was a great clattering of heels and a rat-a-tat-tat on her office door. Without waiting for an answer, the door swung open and a woman Hermione hoped never to see again waltzed through.

* * *

"Afternoon Hermione! You look lovely darling, have you done something new to your hair? And, oh, who do we have here?"

The hair on Lucius' neck stood up on end at the falsely bright voice of the one and only, Rita Skeeter. Merlin's beard, what was she doing here? Was she actually friends with Miss Granger? Skeeter was an absolute harridan! He had learnt that the hard way…

Although, judging by the look on Miss Granger's face, Skeeter was the last person that she wanted to see. Taking the matter into his own hands, Lucius turned slightly in his chair, and held out his hand politely.

"Lucius Malfoy. A pleasure as always to see you, Ms Skeeter."

Rita Skeeter's eyes almost popped out her skull in surprise, but she was a professional. She recovered quickly and gave a wide red smile, the occasional golden tooth glinting evilly. Clearly, Skeeter was at the top of her game – the rhinestone encrusted glasses shone brightly in the light of the office, and her fashionable black robes were patterned with gaudy leopard print.

She held out her own hand to shake back – there were a cluster of costume jewellery style rings adorning sausage like fingers. Her red talon like nails scratched at Lucius' skin as they shook amicably, and he shuddered in repulsion.

"Why, Mr Malfoy, this is certainly a surprise!"

"Indeed." He folded his hands neatly in his lap, resisting the urge to clean it on the hem of his robes. His eyes flicked between the two witches, waiting to see what would happen next.

Miss Granger seemed to regain her composure, and closed his file, placing it in a drawer. She sat straighter in her chair, and he found himself surveying her frame. _Good posture,_ Lucius thought. _Very nice indeed._

"What can I do for you, Rita?" Her voice was cold as she spoke. First name terms they might be on, but Miss Granger and Rita Skeeter would never be friends. Lucius recalled all those nasty articles that Skeeter had written about Potter in the Prophet all those years ago. Later that same year, a segment from Witch Weekly arrived, courtesy of Draco. According to the letter that had accompanied it, the trio were distraught, none more so than Miss Granger who felt humiliated at the gossip about her private life.

"Straight to business, I've always liked that about you!" Rita conjured a plush armchair from the air and settled herself into it, without being invited. She kept her crocodile skin handbag clutched tightly to her, but Lucius could see that she was eager to whip out a Quick Quotes Quill. "Well, I'm sure that by now you've seen the news of Mr Weasley and Miss Oliver. I was wondering if you could give me an exclusive, if you don't mind. Tell your side of the tragic love story, dish the dirt, air out his dirty laundry, so to speak. My readers are eager, Hermione, and I can promise a nicely sized bag of Galleons for your trouble!"

Lucius lit his eyes flick from the reporter to the Ministry employee, curious as to what would happen. He didn't have to wait long.

"I'm sorry Rita, but I've got no comments to make on the matter. Whatever Ronald wants to do, or who he wants to see, is all down to him. It's his business, not mine."

"But aren't you angry at the rejection?" Skeeter pushed.

"What rejection is that? There is absolutely nothing between the two of us. Whatever it was that happened between us after the war, it was clearly just a teen romance. It would never have lasted."

"Why though?"

"Rita, this is not an interview! I have no further comments to make on the matter, and if you don't mind, you're interrupting an important meeting." Miss Granger stood and extended her hand towards the door, hoping that Skeeter would take the hint.

Skeeter's eyes went from Miss Granger, to Lucius.

"Yes, I can see that you're very busy." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was a tinge of something else there. Was it curiosity?

"Miss Granger has politely asked that you leave. I would do as you're asked, Ms Skeeter. I would hate to see Miss Granger turn you into a bug, or something so disgusting, if you do not as you're asked." Lucius was subtle in his meaning, unsure if Miss Granger was aware of Skeeter's magical prowess. Regardless, he stood and reached for Skeeter's arm, urging her toward the door.

"Oh I'll leave, Mr Malfoy. I'll go quietly, for now." She winked as she whisked through the door, leaving both himself and Miss Granger in an awkward silence.

* * *

That evening, a new edition of the Daily Prophet went to print, a flashy article on its front pages.

When Hermione received the newspaper from the post owl, she had been ready to crawl into bed after one hell of a day. She laid the paper across the kitchen side to browse the front page. Eyes growing wide, she dropped the pink polka dot mug, where it shattered on the kitchen floor, coffee splashing all over and up the units.

In the Wiltshire manor, Cuba the Elf had received the paper, along with the other notes that the house had received during his absence. Her eyes widened in surprise, shock, and hope, as she scanned the article. Once she had taken in all the information, she folded it neatly and popped it onto the silver tray. It was ready to present to Mr Malfoy. Keeping her face neutral, she hopped up the stairs, her heart beating wildly for her master.

* * *

 _DOES BLOOD MATTER AFTER ALL THIS TIME?_

 _By Rita Skeeter, News Correspondent_

 _She is bright. She is vivacious. She is a heroine of the Battle of Hogwarts, assisting in the defeat of Lord Voldemort, also known as He Who Must Not Be Named, or You-Know-Who. Hermione Jean Granger, born of Muggle parents, has come to be one of the most successful witches of our time. Rising in the ranks to join the prestigious Ministry of Magic in various departments, she has been called a credit to the service. It is not surprising that she is successful, considering that she is the top ranking student in the history of magical British education. Her glory days of learning were at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the late headmaster, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and current headmistress, Madam Professor Minerva McGonagall._

 _Miss Granger seemingly has everything that she could ever want for. Except for romance. Or is this true?_

 _Miss Granger's love life has been in speculation for many years, ever since the sensational Triwizard Tournament, where it was announced that she was dating Durmstrang champion and Quidditch hero, Bulgarian born wizard Viktor Krum. It was rumoured that during her relationship with Mr Krum, that she was also dating Harry Potter, a wizard with too many accolades to list in this newspaper._

 _Rumours were proved false._

 _Yet after the Battle of Hogwarts, it was announced that she was dating fellow war hero, Ronald Weasley (see yesterday's edition of the Daily Prophet for more information). Alas for Miss Granger, the short lived relationship left her broken hearted, but did not appear fazed when it was announced yesterday that the gentleman had moved onto more exotic tastes._

 _And so it appears Miss Granger has as well._

 _Witnessed by this reporter, Miss Granger was seen this very afternoon in an intimate meeting with Mr Lucius Malfoy, of the notorious Malfoy family. Newly divorced, Mr Malfoy, once a reported Death Eater for Lord Voldemort, strove to rule against witches of Miss Granger's standing for years, but the pair have been seen looking cosy and at ease. Appearing supportive and tender, and in Mr Malfoy's case protective of Miss Granger, it can be revealed that the pair have been meeting for five months._

 _This coincides with the length of current imprisonment for Mr Malfoy's son, Draco Malfoy, once a fellow student with Miss Granger at Hogwarts. As readers may already be aware, son Draco was found guilty for the torture and murder of seven female Muggles in Oxfordshire, England. He is currently serving a prison sentence in Azkaban, in accordance with the terms of his trial (see past editions of the Daily Prophet for more information relating to this case)._

 _Could it be that Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy have put the past into the past at long last? Could this be harmony for Pure-blood and Muggle-born wizards and witches alike? Could this even be love? This reporter can only wish the couple well._

 _No comments have been made by friends and family of Miss Granger, and Mr Malfoy._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five – Damage Control**

Lucius slept very little that night. Words from Skeeter's article floated before his eyes. It happened when they were closed. It happened when they were open. Briefly, he thought about getting one of his ties from the inside of his wardrobe to blindfold himself, see if that would stop the words intent on plaguing him, but that very idea brought about thoughts of his ex-wife to the forefront of his mind.

Narcissa had loved being blindfolded. She had thrown that comment about their sex life back in his face the night she left, stating that the only reason she liked it was so that she could imagine it was another wizard touching or making love to her.

Instead of getting a tie, he remained in bed. Lucius tossed and turned in the silk bedding, pummelling the pillows back into shape, swapping every so often to the cool side, not that it made a difference. Dark shapes danced at the periphery of his mind, invading his dreams. The shapes never took a solid form and always remained blurred. Every time he reached for them, they skipped backwards, always out of his grasp.

Giving up on the ever illusive sleep, Lucius slid from his bed, where he sat on the edge of the mattress. He let his head drop into his hands. His hair swung into his face and idly, he rubbed the tiny patch of stubble that was slowly forming on his chin.

That damn Skeeter woman! She was such an infuriating wench! All because he had stood up for Miss Granger – why had he even bothered? Next time, if there was a next time, he was going to let her hex that damned reporter. There was nothing going on with himself and Miss Granger. She was his probation worker for the Law Enforcement office, and that was it. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And he was certainly not in love with her! Yes, he could appreciate that she had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. She had shed most of that bookish look about her, but…

No, he was not going to spend his waking thoughts thinking of her.

Firstly, it was not something a gentleman would do.

Secondly, it was Hermione Granger, and he was a Malfoy.

Thirdly, he was –

"Shit," he murmured, as he found himself thinking of her again.

He let himself fall back onto his bed, staring up at the dark green canopy above him. He felt like a bloody schoolboy, and he had not been one of those in many a moon. Miss Granger however… He banished that thought from his head, and tried in equal amounts, not to think of the article, but it was difficult. That vile Skeeter woman had planted the seeds, and sooner or later, the flowers would bloom, in the midst of adversity.

Damage control. That was what he needed to do.

Summoning parchment, ink and quill from his study, he set to writing several letters, before sealing them with magic. Only the people these letters were addressed to were permitted to open them – if someone else tried to, they would get a very nasty shock.

"Cuba!" he called out.

With a loud crack, Cuba appeared before him. She wore a small nightcap, complete with dangling bell, on the top of her head. The sleepy appearance left her face as she looked up into her master's face.

"Yes Master?"

"I need you to do an important job for me," he said softly, and indicated the two scrolls beside him. He held up the first. "I want this delivered to the Minster for Magic."

Cuba nodded. "Into his hand, sir?"

"As long as it reaches his office safely, that will do. But this one," he held the other up for Cuba's inspection, "this one goes directly into the hand of Miss Hermione Granger."

Cuba blinked slowly. Lucius had never seen the elf look so flushed. So even his staff had read that damned article! He sighed and rubbed his stubble again.

"Her hand, sir?"

"Yes Cuba. A full on personal delivery. Can you do that for me?"

Cuba stood straight and bowed so that her nose touched the cool wooden floor. "Cuba will do as Master wishes."

"Wonderful." He passed the letters to the Elf, his gaze lingering on the scroll with Miss Granger's name on it. He had spoken her name aloud in the confines of his room, experimentally of course, but it sounded pleasant on his tongue.

Cuba turned to Disapparate, but Lucius called out her name. When she stopped, surprised, he added, "And there will be no discussions of any articles pertaining to myself, Miss Granger or the reporter, Rita Skeeter amongst any human or Elf either in this residence or out of it. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly, Master," Cuba squeaked, and with a pop she was gone.

* * *

In her little London apartment, Hermione could not sleep either. There had been too much owl post regarding the article that Skeeter had published that evening, and Ginny had even visited via Floo after Quidditch training. After assuring everyone, Ginny included, that she and Mr Malfoy only ever met for work purposes, and they were definitely not involved with each other romantically, she had felt shattered. Yet when she eventually fell into bed, she found that sleep was doing its best job to evade her.

She had tried numerous non-Magical tactics, from reading complex passages from various books (fiction and non-fiction), watching the flickering television in her bedroom, and finally, the tactic her mother used to use, counting fluffy white sheep. Eventually, she pulled herself from the confines of the thick cotton lilac quilt, and stuffed her feet into a pair of boot-style slippers. Stretching, she padded to the bathroom.

A shower would fix her troubles. They would wash away, down the plughole, and she could start her new day afresh.

Hermione let the water start in the cubicle, pulling the duck patterned curtain around it, hoping that the water would warm up soon. She was about to remove her sleep shirt, when a loud pop startled her and she collapsed against the bathroom wall. She was glad that the radiator wasn't on, otherwise she would have burnt herself.

Stood in the middle of her bathroom was a House Elf. It wore a white tea towel like a toga, and an odd little hat. The Elf jingled as it swayed on the spot for a moment, whilst it struggled to regain its balance.

Once it was a little more steady, it looked up with wide golf ball like eyes. Eyes that were strangely familiar, and yet they couldn't be –

"Dobby?" Hermione whispered, crouching down so that she was eye level with the Elf.

The Elf blinked once and broke out into a wide toothed smile. "Dobby was my cousin, Miss. I am Cuba."

"Like the country?"

The Elf cocked her head. "I do not understand you, Miss."

"It's okay, I shouldn't have said anything really. Are you... okay?" The Elf was still swaying ever so slightly, and Hermione turned off the shower, before opening the window to let the steam out.

"Many thanks, Miss. May Cuba ask… Are you Miss Hermione Granger?"

"Y-Yes."

"Master Malfoy has asked me to deliver this to you. Please take it." Cuba held out a small tightly wrapped scroll for her to take, before she plonked herself on the floor and crossed her legs. The little Elf looked up at Hermione expectantly with large eyes, and Hermione realised that she was still in just her sleep shirt.

Carefully, Hermione opened the scroll and started to read the note. She got as far as _Dear Miss Granger_ , before the Elf gave a strange little squeak and collapsed on the bathroom floor. Hermione gave a scream, dropped the note and clutched at the Elf's body. The Elf looked up at her blearily, touched Hermione's hand, before she whispered two words to infuse her brand of magic:

"Malfoy Manor."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six – Elf and Social Care**

Hermione had never Disapparated with an Elf before, and she didn't particularly want to again. It was one of the oddest sensation she had ever experienced, and when she finally opened her eyes, she was surprised to see that she was nearly flattening the little Elf.

"Cuba?" Hermione touched the Elf's shoulder. It was cool to the touch, but her eyes flickered open. Her eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing.

"Miss Granger." Cuba's voice was weak.

"Cuba-" Hermione did not get to finish her words for the Elf's eyes fluttered shut, her head lolled backwards on a thin neck, and her breathing became laboured. Hermione tried the Rennervate charm, but sudden realisation hit her that her wand was still in her apartment. On the nightstand. In her bedroom. She shook the Elf by the shoulders, nearly knocking her head back on the wooden floor. _See_ , she thought to herself, _this is why I'd never make a Healer._ "Oh Merlin's left testicle! Cuba? Cuba, stay with me! Help! Please? Someone help me!"

Tears rolled alongside her cheeks, blurring the ornate room she had found herself in. She clawed at the wooden floor, trying to heave the thin Elf into her arms, but she found herself unable. Whatever strength she thought she possessed was evidently gone.

"M… M…" Cuba whimpered, her eyes still closed.

"Miss Granger?"

A voice brought Hermione back to her senses. Stood at the top of a wide staircase was none other than Lucius Malfoy. His usually white blonde hair had lost some of its sheen, and hung damp over, oh Merlin's right testicle, a bare muscled chest. Hermione knew that her jaw had gone slack, giving the Pure-blood a chance to witness her impression of a goldfish. A pair of black silk trousers hung loose on his hips, the white drawstrings a small contrast.

"It's Cuba," she said, finally forming words. "Something's happened to her-"

Within seconds, Mr Malfoy was beside Hermione, his hands gentle on her skin as she moved her to the side slightly. The Elf remained on the floor, the only sign of life a faint moving of the chest under the tea towel. Mr Malfoy's hair fell against the Elf's chest, and then seemed to completely cover her as he moved closer, listening to the faint heartbeat.

"She's still alive," Mr Malfoy said. "We need to get her seen to straight away."

With an ease and grace befitting his station, Mr Malfoy had Cuba scooped into his arms as if she weighed nothing. The Elf lolled in his arms until she finally rested against his chest like a child. Jerking his head for Hermione to follow, he set off down a long narrow hallway, turned through a clean, tidy kitchen, and through another door.

Hermione hurried as fast as possible to keep up with the wizard, but her feet nearly slide from beneath her in the booted slippers several times over. The floor had been polished to within an inch of its life, and the people displayed in the portraits hurried along with her, shouting to one another as they hopped from gilt frame to gilt frame.

When Hermione had caught up with Mr Malfoy, she was surprised to be in a small bedroom. The beds supplied were tiny, almost the perfect size for a small dog or cat, but instead, she could see smaller Elves asleep on them. Some of them were bunk beds, as if for childlike Elves. Each bed, bunk or not, had a bright patchwork quilt and a plump white pillow. Untidy bureaus seemed to hold countless amounts of tea towels, and crumpled parts of uniforms. A pair of faintly patterned floral curtains were drawn across a small window, and it matched the rounded rug on the floor. On the jutting window sill sat a some collection of assorted pebbles and stones.

Yet the most surprising part of the room was a large painting, depicting a House Elf with large eyes, a cheerful smile, and holding up a black dirty, holey sock in his right hand. The painting did not move, but a glowing silver inscription read below it:

 _Requiescat in pace Dobby_

Hermione brushed another tear from her eye. It was the perfect tribute to her fallen friend.

Whilst she had been busy staring around the room, Mr Malfoy had made Cuba comfy on a small single bed. He had tucked her in, pulling the light blue and green striped comforter to her chin. Now he knelt beside her, stroking the side of her face gently.

An Elf in a white cap brushed past Hermione and shyly presented a bottle and silver spoon to the Pure-blood. She watched as the once Dark wizard uncorked a light pink potion, and poured an amount onto the spoon. Gently, he prised open Cuba's lips, and slid the potion into her mouth. He continued to surprise Hermione as he mopped the spillage from the side of her lip with the side of the spoon.

A silent minute later, a light colour rose in the Elf's cheeks, almost like a rosy blush, and her eyes opened slowly.

"Mr Malfoy, sir," she whispered.

He squeezed her tiny hand. Not harshly, Hermione noticed, but tenderly. "If you ever scare me like that again, I will… I will…"

"Give me clothes, sir?" Cuba chuckled, but broke out in a fit of coughing that lifted her small head from the pillow, until she settled back.

Mr Malfoy chuckled as well, squeezing Cuba's small hand once more. "Yes Cuba, I will give you clothes. Rest now, I'll be back to check on you later. The others will take care of you." He spoke to the room at large. "Won't you?"

"Yes, sir!" the Elves chorused from their various positions about the room.

Mr Malfoy nodded and stood upright, his right knee clicking unpleasantly.

"Did I do well, Master?" Cuba said softly.

Mr Malfoy looked up at last. His eyes, those grey eyes that seemed to swirl like molten silver, met Hermione's and she felt a blush creep up her neck.

* * *

"Yes," Lucius said, his eyes remaining fixed on Miss Granger. "Yes Cuba, you did well. Rest now."

Content that his Elf was comfy and surrounded by her various family members, Lucius finally stepped towards the young witch. Her bottom lip trembled and a teardrop clung to her long lashes.

"Are you well, Miss Granger?" he asked, lightly touching her arm.

"I… I… The… Cuba..." He felt her shake under his touch and he curled his arm around her shoulders, gently turning her in the process.

"You're in shock. Let's get you a drink. A good stiff Firewhisky that'll do the trick." Carefully, he moved them through the door and into the attached kitchen, where he settled her at a worn bench. She mopped her tears with her sleeve, as he busied himself pouring drinks into crystal tumblers. Anything to keep himself busy.

He tried not to stare at her slim, lightly tanned, bare legs, as she seemed to settle. In fact, he tried not to stare at her full stop. What in the name of Merlin was she wearing? It should be illegal whatever it was, rising on her legs like that and clinging to her upper body. It was so oddly feminine for Miss Granger, but it suited her, even if it had been purchased in a Muggle shop. Muggle's continued to puzzle him, even now without the Dark Lord's influence.

Glancing back at Miss Granger, he felt his brain tick.

What the hell was a Barbie Girl when it was at home?

Finally, he couldn't delay the inevitable. He pushed the drink into her hand and murmured, "Drink."

She did as she was told, her lip curling at the initial taste of the Firewhisky. Clearly, she wasn't a big drinker. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, sitting beside her on the bench. He drained his tumbler in one go, and found himself clutching at it as if it were a life preserver. "If I may ask, Miss Granger, what happened?"

She took a deep breath, her chest rising slowly. She took another gulp of her drink. Dutch courage - that's what it was.

"Cuba… She just appeared. With a letter from you. In my bathroom."

Lucius summoned the bottle from the sideboard, uncorked it, and took a hearty swig. That image was not needed in his head. Not right now anyway.

"Go on," he said, his voice slightly hoarse from the whisky.

"She handed me the letter. I went to open it, and the next thing I knew, she'd collapsed."

He nodded. "I shouldn't have asked her, she's an old Elf, she needs her rest-"

Hermione snorted and drained her glass, pulling a face at the taste. "I think you'll find that she needs more than that, Mr Malfoy! She needs wages and holiday entitlement, and a workplace pension. She needs clothes, she needs-"

"You will not tell me how my household is to be run, Miss Granger. You are not a Mistress of the Manor, nor are you its Lady. How did you get here?" His hand that held onto the bottle started to shake.

"Cuba. I tried to help her, she whispered a few words, and I found myself here. Believe me, Mister Malfoy, I didn't plan on it." Without warning, she snatched the bottle from him, and took a great gulp from the bottle, as he had. Maybe she was a bigger drinker than he had initially thought. "You think I want to return to the place where Dobby took a killing blow to protect us? The place where I was tortured? The-"

Lucius gave into impulse. The most effective way to shut a woman up was to kiss her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven – Is That the Time?**

Lucius' head spun as he came to the sudden realisation that he was kissing Hermione Granger. This was something that he had never expected to do, not in a million years. Okay, yes, it had certainly stopped her banging on about House Elves for half a century, but this, what he was doing, was completely, utterly crazy.

Kissing her. It was the weirdest sensation. Not that her lips felt weird, not in the slightest. In fact, they were soft, delicate, and had stopped their trembling. They were nothing like Narcissa's. She didn't kiss back like Narcissa and –

Realisation smacked him across the face with a wet fish. Several times over.

Hermione Granger was actually kissing him back. Someone who had hated him and his family since her first days at school, was actively engaged in kissing him back. Their lips moved softly against each other's, hesitant and wary.

Carefully and slowly so as not to frighten her, Lucius moved his hand to cup her cheek. She stilled for a moment, as if startled, but the moment that his thumb began to caress the smooth, unblemished skin of her cheek, she relaxed.

This was a dream. A beautiful, torturous dream, where nothing had to make sense. It had to be, there was no other explanation. And yet, he didn't want to wake from it.

No, what was he thinking? Of course, he needed to stop this. Young girls like him did not kiss older men like him. And he should not be kissing someone who was the same age as his son – it was bloody cradle snatching! This kiss shouldn't even be happening. If any of his old Death Eater pals could see him now, he would be dead before he hit the ground.

And so would she.

It was painful to part from her, but Lucius did, although his hand did not leave her face. He found himself unable to, as he watched a lovely blush spread across her cheeks, a complete contrast to his pale hand.

Using his free hand, he reached for the bottle of Firewhisky that was still clutched in her hand. She let her fingers glide from it, as he moved the bottle onto the worn table top, out of harm's way. All the while keeping eye contact with her. Her eyes were like pools of melted chocolate. He found himself incredibly hungry for chocolate. For her.

"Hermione," he whispered. Her name was like honey on his tongue. Sweet, and moreish. Like those eyes of hers.

"We shouldn't do this."

"Why ever not?"

"It's… It's wrong."

"Oh Miss Granger, your words lack conviction." He leaned in and captured her lips again, although his time her hands shot out to press against his chest, trying and failing to push him away, as his tongue swept her bottom lip.

"Please," she murmured, as they broke apart again.

"Please what?" He knew he was teasing her but he just couldn't help it. It was fun, and he wanted to keep doing that, even though he felt like a teenaged boy that had just discovered his hormones.

"Please stop doing this." She pulled away from him and folded her arms across her chest, as if that would stop him. "We shouldn't be doing this. I'm working with you, overseeing the back end of the case for your family for Merlin's sake!"

"Sod the case." He grinned, and dropped his hand to caress the side of her neck with his fingertips, watching her fight the oncoming squirm. "I'm not going to be an evil old wizard, I've told you a thousand times in those blasted meetings. And if I am, I'm sure you can find a way to discipline me!"

She blushed bright red. "Anything could happen!"

"Anything has already happened. We shared a few kisses-"

"And we were in the wrong to do even that! We shouldn't have done it. What if bloody Rita Skeeter had seen us?"

"I wouldn't let that old bitch see me kiss you." He tried to pull her close as he leant in again, as he realised how horrible that could have sounded to her. This time, her hands struck his chest, trying to push him away and nearly succeeding. Oh, she was a hellcat! Using his free hand, he caught her wrists and drew her closer. "Hermione, listen to me. If you don't want me to kiss you, I won't. I'm not like that."

"Anymore," she whispered, but the words caught him.

He grit his teeth, trying to ignore the stinging jibe, and found himself resting his forehead against hers. "No I'm not shooting Dark Mark's into the sky anymore. I'm not torturing men, women and children alike because others found it funny. I'm not trying to destroy a world. I think… I hope that I'm starting to become a better man."

He watched her open her mouth and close it again, her eyes lowered to her lap.

"You're helping me. You're making me a new man. You-"

"Don't. Don't you give me pretty words after pretty kisses, Mr Malfoy. I…" Hermione finally met his eyes and said softly, "I'd actually like to go home. I have work very soon."

"Is that the time?" he wanted to say, but thought better of it. Sarcasm wouldn't help at a time like this.

Instead, he nodded, lips pressed together. In actuality, he didn't want her to go. He wanted to kiss her again, run his hands across her smooth, supple skin. He wanted to hold her in his arms properly, and whisper tender sweet nothings. He wanted her to say, "Fuck work," and carry on kissing him as if their very lives depended on it.

Damned witches with their untold powers of seduction.

His eyes landed on the bottle of Firewhisky, and he chose to speak to that.

"There's some Floo powder on the shelf. Let me set the fire. You'll be home in no time."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Thank you very much for all your alerts and favourites, it makes my heart soar! I'd like to apologise for the delay in uploading this latest chapter. I've recently moved back into my apartment, after fracturing my right ankle at roller derby training eight weeks ago. My focus is rest, healing, building strength, and working on university assignments.

Fear not though readers, I will not forget Lumione!

* * *

 **Chapter Eight – Excused**

"Merlin's left testicle," Hermione murmured as she stepped out of the green flames of Floo travel, and into her own apartment. Her slippers kept her feet warm as she pottered from room to room, trying to regain some control over her life and find some normality. Whilst her feet were toasted, the rest of her still felt cold. Gooseflesh crept up her legs and she found herself shivering.

What on Earth had happened to her life? She was quite happy to be bumbling along in her little life. She did not need someone like Lucius Malfoy turning it upside down!

Brushing those thoughts away, she collected fresh clothes from the wooden wardrobe in her bedroom and made her way to the bathroom. She set the shower up again, hoping that it would be peaceful this time. It had certainly been a spark of excitement, the appearance of the House Elf, but no, she needed a touch of normality now.

Stripping off her nightshirt, she dropped it on the floor, and stepped under the warmish spray of the water. Leaning her forehead against the white tiled wall, she let the events of the mere hours ago wash over her. As terrifying as it was to know that she had been back at Malfoy Manor, in the presence of a once Dark wizard, she had to admit that his kisses were nothing like she had ever experienced. They were tantalising, moreish, and of course, he was experienced. The kisses that she had shared with Ronald were always lacking. She had expected fireworks and bells ringing, like in all the Muggle romance novels and films that she had seen. Ronald had been nothing like that.

On the other hand, Lucius had been tender, masterful and seductive.

"Shit," she murmured, as she acknowledged that she had mentally started calling him Lucius.

She finished her shower as the water started turning cold and all the bubbles from her hair and skin had gone. Wrapping herself in a thick blue towel, she started to get ready for the day ahead, but as she pulled her tights on, she saw the scroll of parchment stuck to the bottom of her foot. Peeling it away, she tried to read the note, but the water from her shower had damaged it too badly. Although, she could just make out the words: _Yours, Lucius Malfoy._

 _Yours_. A word that sent shivers down her spine, and made her consider taking another shower. A cold shower.

* * *

Hermione entered her department on time like normal, and started working straight away. She hung her robe on the back of her chair, and conjured a refreshing iced tea. It was going to be a scorcher of a day for a change – clearly the Magical Maintenance Department was very happy about something. The happiness was probably all down to Great Britain qualifying for a spot on the latest Quidditch World Cup - it had been all that anyone wanted to speak about in the Atrium.

At least no one wanted to talk to her about Rita bloody Skeeter's article. She got a few funny looks from several witches when she arrived, but it was fine. They weren't giving her looks like her hair was on fire (in fact, it was tied back in a simple braid), or that her teeth had grown like a beaver's (again). To her, that was fine. She didn't know if she could handle being the centre of gossip anymore.

Settling at the desk, sleeves of her white blouse rolled up to her elbows, Hermione noticed that paperwork had gradually started to build up again – important letters that needed responses and much much more. Burying herself in the job that she enjoyed, she knew it would keep her mind off a certain silver haired gentleman.

Well, she hoped.

* * *

"Oh, come now Minister, what are the chances of getting through to the final?"

"You never know, Lucius. To see Great Britain play like they did the other day… They had style. They're going for a different line up this year - did you hear that Ginny Weasley of the Holyhead Harpies is a reserve Chaser for the team? I can't imagine she's happy about that... Reserve..."

"I did hear that Minister. Last night was a match of style and skill! I hope that they will continue that through to the finals. I imagine that the ticket prices will be relatively high this time around..."

The voices of Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Lucius Malfoy fluttered to her ears. Hermione felt herself go cold and the grip on the scroll of parchment went slack, slipping to the floor. She wished that she had shut the door. She gauged the time it would take to reach and shut the door, compared to the distance of their voices, and she knew she would fail. She wasn't like Harry Potter, youngest seeker for the Hogwarts Gryffindor team, nor Ginny Weasley, reserve Chaser for Great Britain. She just didn't have the reflexes – that was what she got for holing up in the library, instead of getting fresh air and learning how to fly properly.

It was at that moment that she felt like she would sink through the floor, although she would settle for hiding under the desk like the parchment.

The Minister knocked on the door, and entered, a wide smile on his kindly face. A gentle man, Kingsley Shacklebolt was a powerful wizard and a excellent politician. In fact, Mr and Mrs Granger remarked on Kingsley every time they spotted him in a smart business suit with the Muggle Prime Minister. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell them that he was a wizard.

"Ah Miss Granger! I thought I heard the busy scratch of your quill. Do you ever stop working?"

"Good morning, Minister! May I get you a drink?" She jumped to her feet, wand at the ready.

"No thank you, Miss Granger. Is everything okay within your department?"

"Y-Yes thank you, sir." Hermione wondered what this was leading to. Whilst her friendship with the Minister went as far back as joining into the Order of the Phoenix, she still felt on edge. This wasn't a casual gathering at the Potter-Weasley residence for drinks once a month. This was work - this was her life.

It didn't help that she could see Lucius in the hallway, peering in like a small child.

"That's good! That's very good! Now a quick matter, if you don't mind?" Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but didn't get a chance before Kingsley continued. "I hear that there is a rather nasty article going around pertaining to yourself and your client, Mr Lucius Malfoy?"

Hermione nodded. "Sir, the thing is-"

"Oh, don't worry about Rita Skeeter, Miss Granger. Anything that she has written about you and your working relationship with Mr Malfoy has been ignored. Excused, if you will? It is a working relationship, rumours will be abound. Please do not worry about it." He smiled, and his eyes took on a hard edge. "As for Miss Skeeter, she has been given a warning regarding her malicious articles. If she writes another, she will be given a fair trial at the Ministry, with immediate suspension from the Prophet. It could even lead to a potential short term sentence in Azkaban."

Hermione felt herself pale. She hadn't expected that, at all. She half expected the Minister to start shouting at her, shouting that she should know better, that she was fired. And yet, Rita Skeeter was in the firing line. So much that she would end up in Azkaban, like… Like…

She caught sight of Lucius with a tight grip on his cane moving through her office door, before she hit the floor in a dead faint.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine – Orders of a Doctor**

When Hermione opened her eyes, she found that she was not in her office. Instead, she was in a private room that was unmistakeably part of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She groaned and raised a hand, brushing the wispy strands of hair from her face. Carefully, she sat upright to take in her surroundings.

The room was decorated in white and teal – it was something her mother would have approved of for a bathroom. It had a clinical feel to it, but at the same time, it was very neat and homely. A small thin wooden wardrobe had been erected in a corner, with a small wire coat hanger dangling from the doorknob. The hospital bed she lay in had a patchwork cover laid over the white blankets, and across the end of the bed, was a movable table. Atop the table was a half full water jug, a clear plastic empty beaker, and a ragged copy of Witch Weekly that had clearly been donated by another visitor to the hospital.

The most surprising of all though was who was sat in the wooden visiting chair next to the bed.

Lucius Malfoy lounged in the chair, strands of silvery hair escaping its neat ponytail and framing his thin face. His robes looked rumpled as if he had been there a while, and an empty Styrofoam cup was balanced on the window sill. A copy of the Daily Prophet was in his hands and his eyes flicked lazily over the articles inside.

Her jaw dropped and she quickly recovered as she cleared her throat. At the small noise, he jerked his eyes from the paper to Hermione. She felt her face flush at the intensity in which he surveyed her, and she dropped her eyes. Thankfully, she was still in her work clothes and not a night shirt this time, although her shoes were missing.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

It pulled at the very fibre of her being that a Malfoy was asking her a question like that.

"I've got a bit of a headache, but apart from that, I feel okay. What are you… What are you doing here?"

"I volunteered to keep an eye on you, make sure that you're not going to do yourself any damage." He grinned. "Now that you're awake, I'll just speak to the Healer. If you'll excuse me?"

Lucius stood, folded the newspaper and tossed it into his now vacant chair. As he was passing, Hermione caught his fingertips. Lazily, he let her as he held him still. His eyes roved over her still red cheeks, and she felt them burn even more.

"Please tell me. What actually happened to me?"

"You suffered a blackout, and hit your head. The Minister and I thought it would be in your best interest to get you checked over." He squeezed her hand lightly, and a spark ignited in her chest. "I really should fetch the healer now, Miss Granger."

She nodded and let his fingers slide from her hand. As he disappeared through the door, Hermione flopped back onto the bed. What had made her blackout? It had never happened to her before. She cast her mind back to what she had been doing before the incident, but she couldn't put her finger on it. To be honest, she felt more embarrassed that it had happened at work, in front of the Minister and Lucius.

The door to the room opened and Lucius entered with a small grey haired witch. The witch wore thick black glasses, and carried a clipboard that matched the colour of the room. She flicked through a few sheaves of parchment, until she reached the correct page.

"Ah Miss Granger! A pleasure to meet you at last, I've heard a lot about you over the years! Glad to see that you are awake. Mr Malfoy tells me that you have a headache. That's perfectly normal, we'll get you a potion that you will fix you right up." The Healer checked the notes and approached the bedside. Lucius leant against the doorjamb, looking a little bored. "Now Miss Granger, I'd just like to ask you a few questions. You work in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Yes, I do, Healer-"

"Brannigan." She made a mark on the parchment with a quill. "Have you been feeling physically and mentally fatigued lately?"

"A little, but my casework is quite high."

"I'm guessing that your short-term memory and concentration are quite good then! Any impairment in those areas?"

"No."

"Any muscular or joint pain?"

"Nope."

"And severe headaches?"

"I barely ever get them. I normally take pain killers if I do though- they're a Muggle medicine designed to help get rid of headaches and pains. My parents are Muggles, you see."

Healer Brannigan nodded, made another note and continued: "Have you been experiencing stomach pain? Any bloating of the stomach or constipation? Diarrhoea and nausea?"

Blushing, she caught sight of Lucius who was now focusing on his cuticles.

"None of the above."

"Sleeping problems?"

"Not really. I mean, sometimes I have off nights, but I thought that was natural. I get busy at work, so sometimes it takes a while to drift off."

Healer Brannigan scrawled another note. "Sensitivity or intolerance to light, loud noises, alcohol or food?"

Hermione shook her head and realised that the Healer needed verbal confirmation. "No."

"Have you ever suffered from depression, panic attacks, or any form of anxiety?"

Hermione thought of everything that had happened over the years at Hogwarts. The bullying. The battle against Lord Voldemort and the mission to destroy the Horcruxes. The failed relationship with Ronald.

"Maybe depression and anxiety, but that was when I was a teenager."

Healer Brannigan checked the notes on her clipboard, the feather of the quill tickling her chin.

"Well we can definitely rule out chronic fatigue syndrome, but I think you are suffering from exhaustion. You have not been able to process everything properly since the defeat of You-Know-Who, and you are throwing yourself into project after project. I recommend that you take some time off from work." She ignored Hermione's shocked expression and stuttered remarks. "I will write you a sick note for the Ministry. You will have a month off and during that time, I advise, rest and relaxation. You can collect everything from the Healer's Station along the corridor. Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

* * *

Lucius let Healer Brannigan exit the room, and relaxed back against the doorjamb again. He watched as Hermione balled her fists in the quilt, an unhappy expression on her face. Time off work was like a death sentence to someone like her, but he couldn't help but let a smile play across his lips.

If Hermione was unable to work, then someone else would oversee the Malfoy file. Therefore, should he wish to see her on a less professional level, he would be free to.

He shook himself as he realised that he was reverting back to his teenage self, intent on pursuing the young woman. Although she looked annoyed, she still looked rather lovely.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

She sighed and shuffled out of bed, letting her feet rest on the tiled floor.

"Annoyed, but you can't mess with a Healer, can you?"

"No it's best not to." He paused. "Will you use your month off to go on holiday? I hear that France is lovely at this time of year."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'd sooner not have a month off. There is a lot of work that I need to catch up, and letters that I haven't finished replying to. The casefiles for various families like yours need updating, and–"

"And Healer Brannigan has stated that you are suffering from exhaustion. You need to take a step back, otherwise you could really hurt yourself."

"Why do you care?" she muttered, and he decided to ignore that comment.

"Miss Granger, I understand what you are going through, although you might think that I don't. There is still rather a lot that you don't know about me." He paused. "I rather think that the Wiltshire air would suit you wonderfully."

"What do you mean, Mr Malfoy?"

"You need rest, relaxation. I have a manor house in the English countryside. It would be the perfect place for you. A chance to unwind, take time to get back to being you."

"Mr Malfoy, I don't think-"

"Oh don't lie to me Miss Granger, you have a wonderful brain, perfectly capable of thinking. And think of it, this way – you come to my manor house for respite, and you can also keep an eye on me. You know, make sure that I don't get up to my old tricks." He winked, and watched a wonderful blush creep up her slender neck.

When she didn't reply, he grinned. She wouldn't go against the orders of a doctor. Would she?


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Thank you very much for all your alerts and favourites, it's so great to see people still want to know more about Lumione! I'd like to apologise for the delay in writing and uploading this latest chapter. University has consumed my life - I only have one assessment left, it's a group project and I'm 80% done with it! Which means I can get my butt back into this story again, and that makes me excited!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten – It's Only Words**

When Lucius Apparated into the manor that afternoon, he was pleased to see his House Elves had received the note he had sent from St Mungo's. Although the Elves kept the manor clean and tidy at all times, they were certainly going out of their way to make sure that everything was perfect. It wasn't every day that a lady came into the manor, especially a lady that was going to spend the evening, or more than one day. After the separation, Lucius had never entertained women here. In fact, he didn't entertain any women whatsoever.

As he oversaw the actions of the Elves, his thoughts wandered. Why had he invited the girl, really? There was too much going on in his head. Although, it was true that someone needed to keep an eye on her after her accident, she did have other friends. Potter and company, for example. Although, he doubted the youngest Weasley boy would pay much attention to Hermione, if Miss Oliver was still hanging around like a bad smell. The young woman was known for sinking her claws into rich, foolish men. He had done his research after the article, he knew the type of woman she was. In fact, he could almost see the resemblance between her and the sexual services witches who frequented Knockturn Alley.

Not that Lucius ever had a need to visit one of those witches, not even in his youth. He and Narcissa had been together since Hogwarts, much to the delight of the Black and Malfoy families. Everyone had proclaimed them a match made in heaven, and not just because they were Pure-blood either. She might have looked like an angel in her teenage years, but when her temper flared, Narcissa was more like a hellcat. She knew her own mind, even from a young age. When Lucius wanted more than to hold her hand, or kiss her lips, she kept him at bay. She would drop scandalising hints about what they could do together in bed when they were old enough. She would make sure that her skirts rode high on her thighs underneath her bulky black school robes. She wrote him notes that arrived at the breakfast table, notes that were so naughty that he had trouble concentrating in classes.

He knew what Hermione had been like at school. He had heard it from his son every holiday, and in letters sent home. She was, in the old Potions masters words, an "insufferable know-it-all". When Lucius had first met the young witch, she had the gall to backchat him about the Dark Lord, and like the old Dark wizard he had been, he had insulted her parents without a care. She looked all dressed up and he couldn't help but think of a child who had tumbled into a dressing up box. And yet, just two years later, she had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup with her friends. She had appeared stronger, but perhaps still a little awkward, during that teenage stage of growing up.

And now… He tried to pull indecent thoughts of her from his mind, and inside focused on the House Elf running towards him. Its wide eyes looked like scared, and without a word, it thrust a rolled up note into Lucius' hand. Lucius sank onto the floor as he read the note over and over again.

 _REQUEST TO VISIT_

 _DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY (#02062016) requests a visit in Azkaban Prison with LUCIUS MALFOY in 7 days time._

 _Yours,_

 _Warden Salisbury_

* * *

"Mum, honestly, I'll be fine. I'm not going away for long. I'm taking a weekend break and then I'm probably going to relax at home."

"It's a bit sudden though, isn't it? You've only just gotten out of the hospital."

Hermione hated lying to her mother, but she had to. "I've had it booked for a week or so, and I didn't realise the dates. Good job, I've been signed off." She tried to sound cheery, but she knew it wouldn't fool her mother.

"That's what you get for working so hard. You deserve a nice break. Whereabouts are you going? Anywhere nice?"

"Oh just a little magical spa retreat in Wiltshire," Hermione said offhandedly as she tossed balls of socks into her open suitcase. It wasn't the whole month she would be there, but just the weekend, she told herself. And besides, she didn't have enough socks for a whole month. This would ensure she left the manor in a timely fashion. She couldn't stay a month with Lucius Malfoy. She couldn't. She would go crazy!

"Oh, really? I didn't think you would want to go for something so…" Her mother's voice trailed away, and Hermione frowned at her mobile.

"Something so what, mum?" she asked. The loudspeaker function on the mobile made the white noise even louder if possible. It crackled unpleasantly as silence filled the air. She cleared her throat as she held her slippers to her chest. "Mum, what did you mean?"

"Well… a spa is a little bit… feminine, isn't it?"

"Are you trying to say I can't be feminine?"

"I'm not saying anything, I just didn't expect it of you. You just took me by surprise, it's quite a girly trip. Are you going with Ginny?"

Hermione continued to frown. She found her mother's words hurtful. What exactly was her mother trying to say about her, really? She thought she got on well her mother! Was she trying to say she wanted a daughter who only thought about shoes, and make-up and dresses, instead of career paths, school and true happiness?

"Hermione, dear? Are you there?"

"Sorry mum." Hermione shook her head to get rid of the gloom. "What did you say?"

"Are you going with Ginny?"

"No I'm… I'm going with someone from work. A man. And it's only because he can get a discount, before you say anything. We're staying in completely different rooms in different parts of the spa."

"I wasn't going to say anything, dear." Although Mrs Granger's voice did sound funny when she said that. "So there isn't something going on between the two of you?"

"No! God, no mum! We're just colleagues, that's all."

"Well office romances do happen…"

"This one certainly won't! Mum, he's old enough to be my father!"

"What's that dear? I couldn't hear you, you're breaking up."

"I said-" And then the line went dead.

Hermione sighed, turning the phone off, as the small fireplace in the living room crackled into life. Magic always interfered with technology, it was a pain, but she had known about that for years, even more so since discovering Rita Skeeter's secret in her fourth year at school. At least, she wouldn't worry anyone. Her parents knew that she would be away, and she would only bother them if she needed to. If anyone wanted her from the magical world, then they would send owls. Owls would always find the recipient.

She was about to say goodbye to her bedroom for the long weekend, when she thought about her mother's words. _Feminine_ and _girly_ ran around her head. Opening her wardrobe, she grabbed several small, prettily wrapped boxes and popped them into the suitcase, before she changed her mind.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven – Come Dine With Me**

Hermione arrived in the kitchen fireplace that evening, clutching her suitcase as if her life depended on it. The Floo network had brought her here in no time at all, and as she brushed the soot from her shoulders, she took in the warm surroundings. Although she had been here before, it had been late at night during Cuba's fainting spell. Now it seemed different. Silver pots and pans dangled from hooks in the ceiling, whilst the Aga was spotless – there was not a single bit of dirt, grime or grease to be seen. The handles of cupboard doors shone, and the flagstone floor had been polished – Hermione was almost scared to step onto it from the hearth. Atop the worn table in the middle of the room was a vase of fresh cut yellow tulips.

"They certainly do brighten up the room," she murmured, as a small hand tugged at her luggage.

A House Elf was stood by her side, trembling.

"Miss, I'm to take you to your room. Please follow Batsy this way."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask about how Lucius Malfoy treat his employees, but she remembered Cuba. And other temptations that had happened that night. She clamped her mouth shut, and followed Batsy.

Batsy was a lot like Cuba was – bright and eager to help. She took the case from Hermione instantly, and trotted off until they were in the main hallway. Batsy took the long staircase with ease, whilst Hermione felt out of shape and she clutched at the stitch growing in her side. She realised she needed to exercise more, and made a mental note to join a gym, or at the very least, think of joining.

"The Manor is very large, Miss. You'll be on the second floor, in one of the guest suite's on the west side."

Hermione nodded as they started up the next set of stairs.

"Batsy will be happy to give you a tour soon, if you wish."

"That would… Sounds good," Hermione managed.

"Very good, Miss!" Batsy sprung up the last few steps and waited on the landing for Hermione to arrive. As soon as Hermione's foot made contact with the carpet runner, Batsy was off again, walking with purpose towards a room at the very end of the corridor. Hermione barely had time to look at the moving paintings and art on the walls in her hurry to catch up. When her breath returned to normal as she entered the guest suite, she felt faint all of a sudden.

"This room is beautiful, Batsy."

It was a beautiful room, indeed. Upholstered settees and armchairs were arranged around a sunken pit fireplace, which glowed brightly. Small coal scuttles and a wood basket were full, a small iron shovel ready to dispense the items into the fire. Shelves and shelves of books adorned one wall, whilst on the other was a landscape painting of a garden in full bloom. Heavy linen curtains hung on either side of a bay window, that came complete with a cushioned seat. There was even an old fashioned wooden writing desk in one corner, complete with ink, quill, parchment, the chair tucked underneath.

"Would Miss like to see her bedroom?"

Hermione followed wordlessly. Decorated in shades of purple, black and white, a magnificent king sized bed, with a wooden frame dominated the room. She ran her hand along the cover, feeing the luxurious silk slide under her fingertips. On either side of the bed, were a set of identical wooden cupboards, each topped with a fancy golden candelabra. A plush rug was at the foot of the bed.

"There are many clothes and shoes in the wardrobes, Miss. Each will resize themselves to fit you once you touch them. They have been bespelled and came straight from various tailors and outfitters."

Hermione didn't even register that there were wardrobes. It was thoughtful, and a little creepy, but the man was a Malfoy after all. She could still see Draco and his smarmy little face from school and how he looked down at others who did not have the best of everything, whether it was robes, cauldrons or even pets.

"The washroom is through there, Miss. It is as wizards say, all mod cons."

Hermione smiled at the Elf's phrase. "Thank you very much, Batsy. It is all very lovely."

Batsy nodded and focused on the floor. "The Master wishes you to dine together in one hour."

"Oh, does he, really?" Hermione felt her stomach twist.

"As a welcome gesture, he says. I will be happy to escort you down once you are ready, Miss." The Elf kept her eyes on the floor, as if frightened of the reaction.

Hermione sat back on the bed, almost sliding off as her backside met the silk. What did one wear for dinner with a Malfoy? A Malfoy that she was expected to spend a weekend with, at that.

* * *

The dining room clock chimed seven. Lucius slumped in his chair at the head of the dining table. He was a fool to have thought she would consent to dinner with him. What was he hoping to accomplish? Besides prove that he was not up to his old tricks? And why had he decided to host a welcome dinner in this room of all places. The memories were bad enough as it was, but in his mind's eye, he could still see where the glasses had shattered, where scorch marks had burned the table (an Elf had resurfaced it so not a mark remained now), the place where his son had been Stunned to prevent him from escaping.

If he squinted further into the past, he could see men he once called comrades gathering around the table in darkness, planning acts that now made him sick to his stomach. He could see where a man he once followed into battle had tortured a teacher in front of his family, and made them watch as a filthy black snake had writhed towards its meal, jaw hanging open.

He scratched at the Dark Mark brand that was still seared into his skin as the memories continued to strike him. Merlin's beard, how he wanted the damn thing gone!

A small knock came at the door, and he stopped scratching through his black shirt sleeve. Dropping his hands into his lap, he made himself appear calm and collected, before he called out, "Enter."

He looked up in time as the door creaked open to reveal-

"Miss Granger, you look simply beautiful." His voice came out hoarse as he stared at the beautiful young lady. And it was then, staring at the young woman, at Hermione Granger, that he vowed that nothing bad would ever happen in this dining room again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve – Sleeping Beauty**

Hermione was so full that she felt as if she could barely move. The starter of French onion soup and crusty bread had been wonderful and warming. The lobster was a true delight, although a little fiddly to take apart, but the three bean salad complimented it perfectly. The House Elves had even prepared a cherry and white chocolate cheesecake that had been heaven on a plate.

Once the three course meal had been served, House Elves had entered with an overflowing silver tray. Without waiting to be asked, a cup of black coffee was presented to Hermione, along with a small sugar bowl, an unblemished teaspoon, and a pot of cream. On the side of her saucer were two long almond biscuits. They certainly didn't look like they had come out of a packet, unlike when she visited the mainstream coffee bars when she walked Muggle London with her parents. She waited until her host had been served his own beverage before preparing her drink. She took a hesitant sip, finding herself pleasantly surprised.

"We grind the beans ourselves."

"And the biscuits?" she asked, as she nibbled a corner of the first, the taste and crumbs coating her tongue.

"Old family recipe."

"Let me guess, it's a secret. And if you told me you'd have to kill me?" She grinned at his puzzled expression. "It's a joke."

He nodded, although he still looked slightly confused. He continued to stir his coffee, watching her, before he said softly, "Was the meal to your taste, Miss Granger?"

She nodded, but cast her eyes to the table. He remained so formal in his own home, and yet she had seen other sides to him. When he had carried Cuba the evening that they had shared a kiss that haunted her memories, and made her feel like she was losing all sense of who she was. That wasn't the Lucius Malfoy that she remembered from her youth.

"Mr Malfoy, if I'm to spend the weekend in your home, I think it would be best if you called me Hermione," she said shyly.

"As you wish, Hermione." She felt a fluttering in her stomach when her name rolled off his tongue. "On the condition that you call me Lucius."

"Very well, Lucius." She watched his lips curl into a smile, a smile that threatened to turn her legs to jelly. Thank Merlin that she was still sat down. The last thing she needed was another fainting spell. She shouldn't have had that wine… She fumbled for something to say as he watched her nibbling on the biscuit, feeling as if she was going to cross a dangerous line. "Your House Elves are excellent cooks."

"They will be delighted to hear that. It has been a while since they have cooked something so extravagant."

"They needn't have gone to all that trouble. They-"

"I can assure you, Hermione-" butterflies surged in her stomach, "-that the Elves are here of their own choosing. After the war ended, after so many lives were torn apart, I offered them clothes. And they refused to leave my side. Cuba… She swore that I would need her."

Hermione dropped her eyes. "I didn't realise-"

"You thought I still kept them as slaves? That I would deny them elvish welfare? I am a changed man, whatever you may think of me, Hermione."

Draining her coffee, and instantly regretting it, Hermione stood. The wrinkles that had gathered in the maroon velvet dress instantly vanished, and she resisted the urge to tug on the cap sleeves that held in in place. It was a mistake to have bought this stupid thing in the first place, but Ginny had insisted that it brought out her eyes. Now, she felt like an idiot standing in a wizard's manor house, in such a Muggle dress.

"Thank you for the meal, Lucius," she said, experimentally using his name. A light twinkled in his eyes, that she was sure had nothing to do her, but everything to do with the majestic crystal chandelier above the table. Resisting the urge to curtsey like a fool, she bade him good evening and made her way to the door. Her simple black heels clicked on the floor, as the skirts of her dress swirled about her ankles. Just before she left the dining room, she turned and gave him a smile, before turning away.

Bed awaited her.

* * *

Lucius sat in his study, the visitation request from his son staring at him from its position on the desk. He sighed, finally closing the evening edition of the Daily Prophet he had been trying to read. His concentration had disappeared as soon as she had entered the dining room, a vision in such a delight shade of red. Gryffindor red, he had noticed, but he didn't let old school rivalries bother him. Not now.

Closing his eyes, he remembered the way she had looked. Her brown tresses had been pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck, whereas a few stray curls framed her lovely face. She hadn't looked like a Ministry official, or a studious bookworm that she had always been during her school days. No, she looked regal. He was well aware that she had been nicknamed the Gryffindor Princess, but she was far more than that.

Standing and stretching, Lucius reached for his wand. Casting Incendio on the request, he would decide what to do about it later. Seeing Draco could only bring trouble.

As he left his study, intent on retiring to bed, he let his eyes drift to the other end of the corridor. Hermione's suite door was ajar, a soft light radiating from within it. She was probably still up at this late hour with her nose buried in a book. It would be her method of relaxing. He let his feet take him there.

He knocked, although he had no idea what he was going to do or say. When she didn't answer, he pushed open the door, thankful that his House Elves had oiled the hinges. The embers of the fire pit glowed softly, giving the room a cozy feel, as he stepped inside.

True to his thoughts, Hermione had been up late reading. In fact, she was still curled in an armchair, a thick and heavy looking book open and forgotten in her lap. Her hair was tousled and free of its bun, curling around her face, obscuring some of her attractive features. The dress had been replaced by a pair of light blue cotton pyjamas. Pyjamas he noticed that in her current position showed a bare side and the slightest trail of black lace. He swallowed the lump in his throat at the realisation that she wore lace underwear. Her chin rested on her heaving chest as she slept on, oblivious to the wizard watching her.

She was a true beauty, even in sleep.

He yanked his gaze away from the black lace, feeling little more than a peeping tom. Taking a blanket and cushion from one of the many settee's around the fire pit, he carefully moved her head so that she would not get a crick in her neck from the awkward position. She didn't stir, and he was thankful. It would have been awkward to explain.

Moving the book, he folded the corner of the page he hoped she had been reading. The spine had not been broken on the book, and it did not smell of dirt and mould – it must be a new book from the Muggle world. He stared at the cover, at the man with stubble across his cheeks with shoulder length hair, as he clung to a great silver sword, atop a throne made of blades. The man was powerful, that much was clear.

He placed the tome on the floor, and covered the sleeping witch with the plain deep green blanket. Tucking it around her, he paused, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he gave in to them as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep well, Hermione."

He crossed to the door and as she had done hours ago, he turned to face her sleeping form for the final time that evening. She slept on, unperturbed by his entrance. His smile remained as he realised that Ronald Bilius Weasley had been a fool not to take care and love her.

He closed the door behind him, finally tearing his eyes away from the young woman.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as the full weight of realisation hit him.

Lucius Malfoy didn't know when and he didn't know how. What Lucius Malfoy did realise though, was that he was falling for Hermione Jean Granger.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen – Garden of Earthly Delight**

Hermione woke in the morning to sunlight falling through the curtains, which she had failed to close that evening. As she stretched, she heard a thump as a cushion fell onto the floor. A cushion she hadn't remembered collecting when she settled in to start reading _Game of Thrones_ that evening. She shrugged it off as she unwrapped herself from a blanket. It must have been a House Elf. Batsy, or someone had been in to check on her.

She yawned and stretched her arms and legs until the joints clicked. Sighing in relief, she hauled herself to the curtains and pulled them fully apart. Kneeling on the cushioned seat, she stared out of the window in disbelief. She hadn't had time to gape yesterday since her arrival and dinner with Lucius. Now, she could stare all she wanted.

The most beautiful garden she had ever seen lay before her. A large ornate fountain was in the centre of it all, water trickling from various spouts, looking like a place of pure relaxation and tranquillity. Gravel surrounded the fountain, with four metalwork benches placed at various angles to best capture all of the beauty of the garden, and the rays of sunlight. Patches of grass were surrounded by beautiful flowers of varying blooms and colours.

And yet it didn't surprise her that Lucius had gardens like this. This was Malfoy Manor after all. Whilst horrifying deeds had happened here, there still remained great beauty.

Hermione turned her back on the garden and made her way into her bedroom. A full day at the manor awaited her.

* * *

"Good morning."

Lucius looked up from the Prophet. He had been reading about a spate of robberies committed by unknown wizards in Lincolnshire, but all thought left his mind. Hermione entered the kitchen, freshly showered and sporting a long flowing summer dress in light pink tones. She had black sandals on her feet, and her hair hung in a braid down her back.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?" He gestured to the table where Batsy and the others had already prepared a spread for breakfast. He himself had already had a cup of black coffee and a teacake. That had surprised his Elves - he seldom ate breakfast. They were glad that his appetite had returned at last, and had gone out of their way for breakfast. They had prepared everything he could have thought of - mushrooms, tomatoes, a variety of eggs, sausages, bacon, toast, croissants, crepes, porridge, crumpets, butter, jams and every type of juice that existed. He had even spied a platter of fish and cooked meats at the furthest end of the table.

Finding room amongst all the dishes, he pushed a clean mug across to Hermione as she settled opposite him.

"Yes, thank you." She busied herself with making tea and buttering still warm toast.

The two sat in companionable silence. Every so often Lucius peered over his newspaper, watching as she read the pull-out, Entertainment section as she ate her plate of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and toast.

He cleared his throat to speak, but she beat him to it.

"I don't suppose your gardens are open to the public, are they?"

"Merlin, no! I might not be a Dark wizard anymore, but I would like some privacy." He chuckled. "Why do you ask?"

"They just seem so beautiful, I thought that-"

"Would you like a tour, Hermione?"

He watched as a tiny blush crept on her cheeks. He hadn't meant to sound so seductive. He was attracted to her, yes, he had admitted that to himself last night, but she was a house guest. He didn't want to scare her off. In fact, he found that he wanted to get to know her better.

"That would be lovely. Yes please, Lucius."

* * *

If someone had told Hermione in her teenage years that she would be holding onto Lucius Malfoy's arm as he guided her around the gardens of his manor house, she would have laughed until she wet herself. And then she would have probably have slapped them for even suggesting such a thing.

Now… She had to admit it was a strange experience, but it was overall pleasant. Lucius had been a perfect gentleman, even offering her a hand down the stairs that led into the garden. Her hand fit into his better than it had anyone else's, and once she was down the stairs, he had placed it on his arm like a fairy tale prince.

He had pointed out flowers that she had not heard of, even in all the books she had read in the library at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout might know a great deal about plant life, but these gardens were something else entirely.

By the time they had reached the fountain, Hermione found her mind buzzing. There was so much knowledge about plants and flowers that she know knew. The whole experience was a bit like being back at school. She perched on the edge of the fountain, watching as tiny goldfish swam beneath her fingers.

Letting out a wistful sigh, she hadn't realised how relaxed she felt. Maybe Healer Brannigan had been right. Maybe she just needed rest and relaxation.

* * *

"Are the gardens to your liking, Hermione?"

"Very much so. I didn't know you were so passionate about Herbology."

Lucius sank onto the fountain side beside the young witch.

"There is much you don't know about me. I took the subject at NEWT level. Did you know that?"

She raised her eyebrow. "Really?"

"Exceeds Expectations, if memory serves. It surprised my parents and friends to no end."

Hermione's eyes focused on the fish below her, not saying a word in response to his admission. His admission that few people knew about, or even remembered.

"That surprises you, doesn't it? Evil old Lucius Malfoy content to playing with flora and fauna?" He nudged her, a grin on his face.

"I'm sorry if I've insulted you."

He took her hand, the hand that was trailing through the water, almost teasing his goldfish. He gently massaged her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

"Petal, you could never insult me. I've got broad shoulders, I can take what the world throws at me now. I've come to realise that I'm big enough, and daft enough, to get myself in and out of situations. It's taken some time to change who I was into a better man, but you helped me."

Hermione bit her lip as she looked up into his eyes. Just that look alone, he could see hurt and pain buried within her. Along with other emotions that she didn't know how to deal with. Carefully, he leaned closer, his lips brushing hers –

CRACK!

Hermione sprung away from Lucuis as if she had been electrocuted. He could have kicked himself for making a move like that. What he said might have been true, but he should know better than to go in for a kiss like that, dammit!

Batsy the House Elf appeared before them, trembling, with tears in her eyes.

"Master." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Batsy, what is it?" Lucius stood, his hands resting on his hips.

"Master, it's Cuba…"

"What about her?"

Batsy dissolved into tears that wracked her body. She flung herself down on the gravel, trying to shove handfuls of the stuff into her mouth, before either himself or Hermione could stop her.

"Incarcerous!" Lucius bellowed, whipping his wand from inside his shirt pocket.

Ropes sprang from nowhere, binding the House Elf to stop her from causing further harm to herself.

"This is for your own safety," he told the Elf sternly, as he bent down to her level. Behind him, he knew that Hermione looked shocked and horrified. "Now Batsy, calm yourself down. That's a direct order."

The Elf immediately clamped her wobbling lips together, although tears continued to fall from her golf ball sized eyes.

"What has happened to Cuba?" Lucius asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Master, she's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" Lucius asked, although a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach already told him that she had gone where he could not follow.

Hermione's hand rested on his shoulder, and she squeezed lightly. It was comforting, knowing she was there.

"Master, Cuba has died."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen – Gone, But Not Forgot**

Lucius wasn't aware that his knees had given way, until a single tear drop fell before him, creating a dark circle on the ground. This was a nightmare – Cuba, dear sweet Cuba, could not be gone. He hadn't even realised that she had been that sick – why hadn't she told him? She had been with him for years, they had spoken about everything under the sun since he had been a young boy.

Memories flashed through his mind, each other more different from the other…

 _Lucius as a pyjama clad infant levitating around his bedroom, whilst the Elf tried to use her own brand of magic to bind him to her._

 _Cuba pressing a tin of homemade brownies into his hands before he left with his mother and father to catch the Hogwarts Express for the first time._

 _A thirteen year old Lucius with flushed cheeks as Cuba stood in the centre of his bedroom, holding up magazines featuring scantily clad witches, licking suggestively at wands and broomsticks._

 _Cuba's waterlogged eyes as Lucius revealed to the family that he had joined the Dark Lord's services straight out of school._

 _Lucius holding Narcissa's hand as they were declared man and wife, a sobbing Cuba at the back of the service._

 _Cuba's finger as she delicately stroked the newborn Draco's chubby cheek, as Lucius held him in his arms._

"Cuba…" he whispered. His fingers trembling, he pointed his wand at the Elf before him and the bonds fell away from her body. He tried to straighten, but found himself unable to. The grief that hit him was so overwhelming. The warmth of Hermione's hand was still on his shoulder.

"Master, what would you have Batsy do?" Batsy's voice was high and squeaky, but it was clear that she was trying to hold back her own tears. "Master?"

"Lucius?" Hermione's voice broke through as he remembered the look on Cuba's face when she was to deliver a special note the night she had fallen ill. And brought Hermione to the manor. The night they had kissed.

"Prepare for a funeral," Lucius said simply.

* * *

Hermione stood awkwardly at the back of the group. She had a small bouquet of white lilies in her hand, a token of remembrance for Cuba. She had transfigured the flowers from a few tiny weeds that she had found beneath a bush. She was still wearing her summery clothes, and Lucius had forbidden her to change.

"Cuba was not an ordinary Elf. She is not having an ordinary burial, full of doom and gloom," Lucius had said.

The Elves had dug a grave in the shade of an oak tree on the edges of the garden. Cuba's body had been wrapped in the light blue and green striped comforter from her bed, before being lowered inside with the _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm. Lucius had taken charge of the entire service.

It was very simple. Each Elf took it in turns to stand at the head of the grave, where they each shared a simple memory of their time with Cuba. After they had spoken, the Elf tossed a small handful of dirt atop the Elf's body, followed by a daisy.

Lucius stood beside the grave the whole time, his face turned to the rays of sunlight that fell through the branches of the oak, as if he was too scared to look down. His hair was still unbound as it had been this morning, a few strands crossing over his eyes. It was odd to see him without his cane, but Hermione shook herself. This was his home, he was at perfect liberty to do as he pleased. Although, she did notice that his right hand was pressed onto his left arm - the place where his faded Dark Mark remained, like a old sailor's tattoo. It wasn't until the last Elf spoke that he looked up at Hermione. His eyes held so much sadness that she briefly forgot how sad an occasion this really was.

He had really changed. Would he have given a House Elf a funeral before? She remembered the awful treatment that poor Dobby had received all those years ago…

Lucius jerked his head to the grave. He expected her to follow the Elves examples.

Cautiously, she picked her way through the gathered Elves and stood before the grave. She caught a glimpse of Cuba's body, and tears welled in her eyes.

"I didn't know Cuba as well as the rest of you, so I don't really have any memories. But I do want to thank her, for showing me that the world has changed, and always will be."

She refused to look up at Lucius. Instead, she let her tears fall as the dirt and flowers fell upon Cuba's body.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I commit the body of Cuba the Malfoy House Elf to the earth. May your soul find peace." Lucius dropped a plain black sock into the grave, and the symbolism was not lost on Hermione. Cuba was now free.

She watched as he waved his wand, filling the grave in swiftly. When it was now just a mound of earth, he conjured twelve beautiful white roses. He laid them across the grave. He spoke softly, but Hermione still caught the words, "I'll miss you."

* * *

Lucius did not have dinner that evening. After the funeral, he locked himself up in his study, not answering the door to the House Elves who came knocking. He had tried to read the new edition of the Daily Prophet, but found focusing on the words difficult. He tried to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network, but the music did not suit his mood. Hell, he even tried penning a letter to Azkaban, regarding the visitation that his son had requested, but found himself scribbling and doodling on the parchment, instead of forming actual words. In fact, it was late when he knew what he wanted to do.

He hadn't bothered using a glass, but took his first large gulp of the special brand of Ogden's Old Firewhisky straight out of the bottle. The alcohol burned his throat, but he didn't care. He half imagined Cuba scolding him for his behaviour. That he should use a glass, that she did not want him to be mourning her death. That she was old, and that it was simply her time to pass.

"Fucking Elf," he murmured as he took another pull on the bottle. Merlin's beard, he wanted to be drunk, so drunk that he passed out and couldn't remember his own name.

A knock came on the door.

"I'm not in," he grumbled. "Piss off and leave me alone."

"Lucius? Lucius, please let me in."

He didn't answer. She knocked again.

"Lucius, getting stone cold drunk is not the way. I know that's what you're doing in there! Please, just let me in. I want to help you."

"Fucking Gryffindor's with their noble spirits," he muttered, as he left the bottle on his desk amongst the debris of parchment, quills and ink. He crossed to the door, finding a lost looking Hermione. "What?"

"I… I just wanted to-"

"What?"

"I know how you're feeling. I've lost people too."

"Everyone has lost someone, Miss Granger. I don't want to talk about this, so why don't you go put your nose in a book where it belongs and not in my business?"

"What about me? What if I needed to talk to someone? What if-"

Lucius cut off her by pressing his lips to hers.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your alerts, favourites and reviews to this take on Lumione, the interest continues to wow me! I'm three days away from completing my first year of my university course, which means more writing time/swift updates! I'm sorry that I've made some of you upset over Cuba, especially lovely reviewer _zeeksmom -_ I'm sorry I nearly made you cry, I honestly didn't mean to! Fear not, her sacrifice was not in vain.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen – The Wizard and I**

Hermione raised her hands to push him away from her. What did he think he was doing? She had not come to his study to kiss him, she had come to talk like a reasonable adult. To seek comfort from another human being who was all too well aware of the pain of losing someone that they were close to. She couldn't ever forget the faces of those who had fallen in the Battle of Hogwarts – a battle that the man who's lips were claiming hers had taken part in, before joining the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army at the end of the war.

Her hands met his shoulders and they broke apart. She was still stood in the doorway. The way his hungry eyes roved over her bare shoulders made her feel suddenly very vulnerable in the light dress. Her sandals had given her a slight lift in height, but now she seemed small and childlike without them. She had abandoned them after returning from the funeral (she had crawled into the armchair, sobbing into a handkerchief that a House Elf had found).

"You're drunk," she said simply.

He shook his head, blonde locks swirling around his shoulders. "Only just started. Plan on getting there though."

"Well like I said-"

"You say a lot of things. Why don't you relax for one night? Come and have a drink. The bottle will need finishing." He jerked his head towards his desk where a Firewhisky sat.

"A bottle like that should last a while, not all night."

"Is that how you Gryffindors celebrated anything? Keep a bottle going all term?" The corners of his mouth jerked up.

Hermione could feel her temper rising. He might be suffering a great loss – he had clearly been fond of Cuba – but there was no need for him to behave in such an awful way. He had invited her here for rest, not to get into a heated debate or to be insulted. She was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake, and she was not going to be treat as if she were still a child!

"Your manners are as bad as your son's!" she snapped, and instantly clapped a hand to her mouth. She shouldn't have said that, she should not have said that. It had just slipped out. His eyes lost what little warmth they had contained tonight and instead now seemed an oddly clouded colour.

He stepped closer so that now they were chest to chest. Hermione swallowed. The lioness would be devoured by the serpent. She would be packing her bags before she knew it. And to think that he had well and truly changed – she was a fool.

"Have I not allowed you access to my home? Have I not treat you with respect since working with you on this Godric-forsaken rehabilitation scheme of the Ministry's? Have I done anything to harm you?" His voice was soft, calm. It would have been better if he had shouted. This Lucius was unnerving. "Answer me, Miss Granger."

"I… I…" Hermione looked down at her bare feet.

"For once it appears that you are lost for words." His hand rose and for a moment she thought she would be struck with the Cruciatus curse and she flinched, her eyes closing. Instead, he caressed the side of her face. Her body froze, her eyes opening.

He dipped his head lower to hers.

"I am nothing like my son," he whispered, before kissing her.

Hermione was too startled to respond. She stood there frozen, not daring to move. And yet, deep down, she wanted to move. Against him. Underneath him. Above him. So when she moved her lips back, reciprocating the kiss, she found Lucius changing. Her mouth opened slightly, and he took the chance to start to gently explore hers with his tongue. And that's when she let a tiny moan escape her. At the noise, his hand dropped from her face to rest on her left hip, whilst with his right, he pulled her further into the room.

She didn't protest, and took it on her own initiative to close the door behind her with her foot.

Lucius' kiss continued, turning softer, and when Hermione placed her hands around his neck, effectively bringing them together, she felt him sigh.

They broke apart, only for him to kiss his way up to her ear where he nipped her lobe with his teeth.

"Lucius," she whispered. At the sound of his name, he left a trail of kisses along her neck, until he reached her collar bone.

"Such beautiful skin. So soft…" he murmured, the grip on her hip tightening. As if in appreciation of her body, his tongue gently traced part of the bone. Hermione felt her legs going weak at the knee. Never in her life had anyone treat her like this. This was most definitely some kind of foreplay, something that Ronald had never grasped the idea of before.

Another moan escaped her lips and he drew back suddenly.

"Hermione, if you want me to stop-"

"No." The word was out before she had thought about it properly. All she knew was that she wanted this man before her.

"Are you sure? Because once I-"

She stepped back into his arms, taking his hands and placing them at the straps of her dress. On tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, "Make me lost for words, Lucius."

Lucius took her words to heart. Their lips met again, with no resistance. Hermione kissed the man back as if her life depended on it, the passion that she had tried to deny herself no longer at bay. When the straps fell down her shoulder, she nipped his bottom lip. Pulled against him, she could feel his erection. When the dress came down altogether and landed in a puddle at her feet, her heart hammered in her chest.

"Miss Granger, you have the most beautiful body I've ever seen."

Hermione was sure that he was lying through his teeth, although she glad that the underwear she had on was a nice matching set. The white lace bra cupped her well, giving her an ample cleavage, although within minutes, the garment was on the floor, and Lucius's gentle hands cupped her instead. His deft fingers massaged the flesh, letting his thumbs work her nipples until they were hard and Hermione was close to begging him for more.

Lucius Malfoy was skilled, there was no mistaking. Narcissa had been a fool to let him go, she was sure of that. Now was no time to think of his ex-wife, though. Not when his mouth decided to replace one of the thumbs. She found her hands in his hair, lightly tugging wanting him even closer.

"'Mione," he moaned, as he blew lightly on the sensitive peak. And her knees crumbled.

Catching her about the waist with a swiftness that she didn't think him capable of, Lucius lay her on the dark patterned rug that adorned the study floor. He hovered above Hermione, his hands resting on the waistband of her knickers, gazing at her body. Hermione found his eyes so intense that she moved her hands to cover her breasts.

"No!" he barked, startling her. He cleared his throat, before adding, "I want to see you. All of you."

His words would be her undoing.

With the slight incline of her head and a raising of her hips, Lucius pulled down the lacy knickers, displaying her. If she thought his eyes were hungry before, this new look was animalistic. Slowly, he began to massage her thighs, his fingers moving deftly, creating circles and swirls on her skin. Slowly, his fingers crept inside of her legs, until his hand brushed against her most intimate area. This did not stop the moan that slipped out of her mouth. Encouraged by the noise, Lucius brushed her again, this time with the tip of his finger. The third time he did this, he slid into her softness with ease.

On instinct, Hermione felt herself clench around him, and shut her eyes. Whilst Ronald had given her this sort of pleasure before, he could be rough and it sometimes hurt her. She was almost thankful for the moment to end with him.

"Hermione, look at me."

She did as Lucius commanded, feeling her stomach tighten. Once their eyes met, he began to move his finger inside of her, setting a pace that was delicious but left her wanting more. Her back rose from the carpet, and she called out his name, the 's' elongated in the silence of the study.

When Lucius stopped his motions, he removed his wand from his trouser pocket. Murmuring the incantation, the clothes around him were gone. Lucius hovered above her, between her thighs, completely and utterly naked. And he was a sight to behold. Whilst she had seen his chest before, now she noticed tiny scars. Scars that she wanted to kiss, and hear the stories behind them, even if she might not like them. A line of faint blonde hair trailed down, and Hermione's eyes followed.

Hermione had read enough fantasy, paranormal and romance Muggle novels to know that the hero was always well endowed.

They had nothing on Lucius Malfoy.

"Tell me you want this. I won't force you." His voice sounded ragged, as if he had run a mile, instead of undressed and pleasured her like no man ever had before.

"I want this. I want you."

And with that Lucius Malfoy slid inside of Hermione Granger with one thrust that made her cry out his name. He was longer than Ronald, and she was glad for the moment he gave her to get comfortable and accommodate to him. When he started to move, she let her hips meet his, watching as his eyes closed and his breathing shallowed above her. What started slow and sensual, began to turning faster, with an urgency and possessiveness.

She was so close to her orgasm that she could feel the knot inside of her almost unwinding. And then he thrust hard, and she was lost.

"Lucius!" She grasped hold of his hips, her nails biting down.

"Hermione!" he called, as she took him with her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** Just a quick note to say that - I have officially finished university for the first year! I have plenty more time to write now, and I hope that everyone is still enjoying this story!

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen – The Morning After**

Sunlight fell through haphazardly drawn curtains, waking Lucius. He squinted his eyes at the offending material, before reaching for his wand to blast them to pieces for disturbing his slumber. When his hand met the wood of the nightstand, and not his wand, he rose up in bed, the covers dropping to his waist. He surveyed the room, all the while searching for his wand.

Pillows littered the floor, along with the throw that adorned the end of the bed. The bathing robe that normally hung on the back of the door was in a tangled heap, and the door to the en-suite bathroom was slightly ajar. And amongst the debris was his wand.

Sinking back onto the pillow, memories of the evening before entered his mind, and he turned to the witch who was soundly asleep beside him.

He remembered the funeral. He remembered the alcohol. And Hermione – she had tried to help him, that much was clear. And then… Then he taken her on the floor of his study, not once, but twice, before bringing her to his bed. Her head had hit the pillow and she had fallen asleep, a sated smile on her face. Lucius followed her moments later.

Hermione was beautiful as she slept. Her wild unruly hair was splayed across the pillow, tangled from how he had held onto it during their coupling. The little make-up she had been wearing was lightly smudged under her eyes, from sweat, tears or pure exhaustion, he didn't know. The silk sheets only just covered her modesty, although he had seen them last night, and all but worshipped them.

Part of him still hoped that she was naked underneath the sheet.

And the other part, was conflicted.

He had written a letter to Kingsley, just mere days ago, stating that he was not in a relationship or pursuing one with Hermione. That whatever was between them was purely professional. If it was that, why had he opened his home to her for recuperation? Why had he kissed her like nothing else had mattered?

He couldn't deny that he hadn't expected anything to happen between them. It had been a fantasy only suitable of a schoolboy, a silly dream. He had admitted that yes, he was falling for her, and he had whispered that in the afterglow of the first time that they had sex, but had she thought it simply pillow talk?

Was she interested in something between them as well?

He was a damned fool. Her job at the Ministry could be in jeopardy because of him, and his damn libido! His desires to be with a witch of worth, who might have cared about him, if only in the heat of the moment could have royally screwed them both over. He was an ex-convict – not just any old wizard hauled before the Ministry and its officials, but a well known Malfoy and a Death-Eater to boot!

Yet, she had to have cared, hadn't she? She would have pushed him away, hexed his bloody bollocks off, and Disapparated if she hadn't wanted to…

Lucius knew he was babbling, that he wasn't making sense, but all thoughts silenced as he felt movement beside him.

"What time is it?" Hermione looked up at him, those chestnut eyes searing into his soul. The cover had slipped as she had turned, and he caught sight of the delightful curvature of her breast. He must be turning into a teenager again – he was hard at the sight of her.

"I'm not sure. I haven't been awake long myself," he replied, raising a knee to prevent any embarrassment on either's part.

She cast her eyes down at her own nudeness, and with a squeak similar to that of a House Elf, she pulled the cover to her chin. Lucius caught her fingers. He dropped a kiss onto each digit that he could reach.

"It's nothing I didn't see last night," he murmured.

"About last night…"

"What about it?" If he was a dog, his hackles would have risen. It didn't sound good, whatever she was going to say. He was already an emotional mess - what was she about to say?

"I'm sorry if I… well, I disappointed you. Sexually, I mean."

"Why would you have, petal?"

"I haven't exactly been with many men, and, well-"

"You really think that's what I was bothered about?" He chuckled and kissed her fingers again. Fingers that had explored his body, as his had hers. "That was the furthest thing from my mind."

"Seriously though-"

"Seriously. Hermione, you felt wonderful above, and below me, so don't ever put yourself down about anything."

Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and without warning, her eyes widened and she smacked the side of her head with her hand. Lucius caught it just in time before she did it again.

"What are you doing to yourself?"

"We shouldn't have. Done what we did last night, I mean. I wanted to, but the case… the Ministry… Merlin's left testicle, and Godric's foreskin, this is just fucking perfect!"

Lucius breathed deeply. It was funny hearing her swear, though, and he composed himself, as he tried to form a sentence. Her fears echoed his.

"You're on leave due to sickness, which can't be helped. The case is moving to someone else, I believe, so some other lucky soul will have the joys of me."

"That's not the point." She frowned, a tiny wrinkle forming in the middle of her brow. "Lucius, what are we going to do?"

"We?"

"I… I…" Hermione turned so red that she beginning to resemble a tomato.

Lucius turned on his side, his lips an inch or so from hers. His voice was hoarse. "Say it again."

Her bottom lip trembled as she said, "We."

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I meant what I told you last night. It wasn't just the orgasm, speaking. I am well and truly falling for you, Miss Granger. You're brash. You're Stubborn. You have a hell of a lot of sodding Gryffindor pride. You are constantly seeking knowledge, ways to better yourself, to show that you are still top, even though school has long gone. Somehow, all of that, coupled with your beauty… Well, you've certainly betwitched me."

"Even though I'm a Mudblood?" she whispered, her eyes dropping to the scar on her arm.

Lucius pressed a kiss to the mark that his foul sister-in-law had left behind. The fact that Hermione had undergone that torture in this very house seemed insult to injury.

"You will never call yourself that, ever again. Do you hear me? Or so help me, I will lock you in a cupboard under the stairs, steal your wand, and leave you there."

Eyes that had seemed cloudy, turned light and mischieveous. "You actually read Harry's biography?"

Lucius grinned. "Well the Elves were patching a leak and it was the only paper to hand!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen – Enter the Dragon**

"She knows. She knows. She knows. She knows. She-"

"We get it, mate. She fucking well knows."

Draco Malfoy slumped against the wall on the top bunk, watching his cellmate pace the wet, cold stone floor. The man was a recent addition to Azkaban and when he had entered the prison a month ago, he had seemed quite sane and healthy. The man had short hair that curled against his head, a shaven face, and hard muscles in the chest, arms and legs. He had seemed relatively normal.

Now, he was a wreck. His hair had started to grow longer, along with a straggly beard. Even though, the men were fed, watered and had mandatory exercise under the new Minister's rule, the man had become a thin, shaking mess. His clothes hung off him. A week into his sentence, he had pissed the bed, and Draco had woken to wetness seeping through the mattress. After the cell had been cleaned and materials laundered as if they were in a hotel, Draco had taken the top bunk. The incident was never spoken about again.

Through the thin bars on the window, Draco caught sight of the thrashing waves that battered the walls of Azkaban. When the wind struck at the precise moment, surf often sprayed through, and soaked the floor. The thin regulation shoes, more like slippers in Draco's eyes, did nothing to protect their feet from the elements as they trudged about the room, or when they were escorted to other areas of the prison. Blisters were a common occurrence, and he had stopped complaining about them long ago.

The uniform the inmates were forced to wear were no better. Originally black and white when the item was presented, it wasn't long before the long sleeved shirt and elasticated pants were filthy with blood, sweat, tears and grime. Others endured piss and shit on theirs. Depending on the Auror on duty, on the criminal and what infraction they had committed, the prisoners were sometimes left them in their own filth. The Auror's always returned the prisoner to the cell with clean garments in the end. Draco felt himself lucky that he had not experienced that treatment, yet.

At least the Dementor's no longer ruled with an iron fist. Minister Shacklebolt had them removed and banished at the fall of You-Know-Who, and whilst the inmates were no longer subject to the constant feelings of hopeless, despair and descent into madness, they were never going to be emotionally stable again. Ghosts frequently slipped through the walls, not caring, not bothering to look at anyone they passed, although many people called out to them.

"She knows. She-"

"Dex, mate, change the bleeding record. I get it, you miss your sister." Draco shuffled on the thin mattress, dangling his legs over the metal frame of the bunk bed. "Jen is gone, though."

The cellmate, fullname Dexter Hall, half-blood wizard stopped pacing. He had been scratching the sides of his growing beard as he repeated his mantra, but now his hands dropped, curling around his painfully thin stomach.

"You're lying," Dexter said, voice no higher than a whisper.

Draco jumped down from the bunk, landing lightly as a cat. He might not be in peak physical condition like he had been as Slytherin Seeker for the house Quidditch team, but he took advantage of the exercise programme. The runs through the graveyard were a place to think, to breathe, to let himself be, well, himself. He had stopped thinking of escape mere months after his arrival, especially when the ghost of an older woman, short and frail, holding a handkerchief to her eyes appeared and shook her sad head. Draco had fallen over a headstone then in complete shock at seeing someone so undeserving in this place. He had broken his nose on the hard ground, and a bump still remained.

Since the news of how Sirius Black really made his breakout went worldwide, new administrative measures were put in place. Wands were taken away before the trials were conducted at the Ministry of Magic, and sealed away until the release from Azkaban. Magical bracelets and anklets were placed on the offenders bodies, which sealed away any magic that would try and come out. The offenders became nulls, almost like Muggles.

The first time the Aurors had tried to place those things on him, Draco had spat in their faces and tried to run. It was just his luck that fucking Potter had aimed a precise Full Body Bind in his direction. Draco had hit the floor, and just like that, he was magically neutered.

"Why would I lie about a women miscarrying a child, and having to be put on life support at St Mungo's? Why would I lie to her brother – the brother who entered that room and blasted a hole through the equipment so that she died?"

At the mention of child, Dexter had clapped his hands over his ears and starting shouting, "No!"

He was still shouting when Draco finished the tale of misery and woe. Dexter had slammed his head into the wall and repeatedly banged it, until his forehead started to bleed. By that time, Draco had grown bored – the wizard was entirely too easy to wind up.

Draco wandered towards the bars, leaning against them lazily. The Auror on duty for this floor had already heard the commotion and was already heading his way. The Auror kept away from the bars as he shot a Stunner at Dexter, causing him to crumple in a heap to the floor. The Auror was about to enter the cell, when a shout stopped him.

Warden Salisbury, a wizard with close cropped grey hair, was marching towards the cell. His face looked flustered when he stopped at the door, wand firmly in his grasp. His robes were neat, although dust had settled on the last few inches.

"Malfoy, you have a visitor." Warden Salisbury had a nasally voice, but the words were not lost on Draco. He straightened his clothes, trying to look semi presentable. It had been days since he his requests were sent out, and his mother's reply had been short and sweet:

 _Unavailable for visitation._

The men let Draco exit his cell, leaving Dexter bloodied and unconscious on the floor. As he was escorted down to the visitor's room on the administrative floor, Draco ran a hand through his straggly hair. It now reached past his shoulders, lank and greasy, with none of its shine. He pulled at the ragged nails, trying to neaten them, although he knew what he must look like, with his thin features and dark circles under his eyes.

Warden Salisbury entered the room first and ushered Draco in. He took the empty hard wooden chair opposite his visitor, and didn't look up, until the Warden had positioned himself in a corner.

"You have an hour," Warden Salisbury said, and seemingly melted into the shadows.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Draco looked up into eyes that were so cool, so familiar that he could have been looking into a mirror.

"Hello father."

"Hello son," Lucius replied.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen – Father and Son**

Lucius had never thought he would be back in Azkaban. After Draco's fifth year at school, and the failed invasion of the Ministry, he had been interned in the hellhole for a short period. Dementor's would often glide past his cell, leaving him alone with terrible memories and things that were left unsaid. When he had been broken out with many of the other Death Eater's, he had felt light and free for a short while, but the memory of the place had tainted him for the rest of his life.

Now, everything about the prison was so different. When he walked through the front doors as a free wizard, he had been searched and his wand removed on the grounds of safety. He had stored the receipt for its collection in the pocket of his robes, and followed the grey haired gentleman who had introduced himself as Warden Salisbury to one of the visitation rooms. There, he awaited the arrival of his son.

Now, his son sat before him. His handsome features were tarnished, and he seemed thinner, as though he had not been eating. He slumped forward in the chair, bruised hands atop the table.

"You came," Draco said. "Thank you."

Lucius had spoken about the visit with Hermione over dinner. Whilst she still harboured some distrust for Draco, she still thought it best for him to honour the request when he was able to. They were family after all, and that's what mattered. He had smiled at the witch and placed a lingering kiss just below her ear. She had smiled and that night, she had not slept in her rooms again.

"How are you coping?" Lucius asked.

"Oh, you know how this place is. It's like being on holiday. Continental breakfast, followed by swimming and exploration of the building. Then it's dinner and drinking until falling asleep, whereupon someone draws a cock on your head in ink." Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly? I'm doing okay. What about you, father? How's life in the sunlight?"

"I've been keeping busy. Lots of meetings at the Ministry. I've had a letter from the Minister this morning actually-"

"About my release?" For a moment, Draco looked hopeful. Lucius hated to burst the bubble.

"About a potential job vacancy. At Hogwarts." The letter had arrived just as he and his witch – when had he suddenly thought of her as his – had sat down to breakfast. The wizard who was taking over the case had recommended him a professor's assistant post at the prestigious school in the Herbology Department under Professor Longbottom. He had not mentioned the offer to Hermione, who was panicking once more over the Malfoy case, and the precarious situation she had found herself in.

"Never too late to teach an old dog new tricks, eh?" Draco leaned back in his chair, looking almost bored now.

Lucius took in the easy posture, the lack of disrespect that his son was giving him.

"Have you heard from your mother?"

Draco laughed. "Last I heard from her was the Easter letter. She was seeing some Italian wizard, code for shagging like rabbits, and hoping to move out there. Don't know if she has or not yet. Her probation's ended, you know?"

Lucius nodded. He was well aware of Narcissa's decision to get well away from him and Wizarding Britain as soon as she could. The wizard she was currently dating was quite well off, and owned lots of land, along with a vineyard where expensive wine was made. Apparently, Silvano Auditore had fallen in love with Narcissa the moment they met in Diagon Alley. The divorce papers had already been signed, she had reverted back to using her maiden name. Lucius wouldn't be surprised if she remarried anytime soon.

Best of luck to her.

"Guess if they want you to move back to school, then you're almost free," Draco said.

It had occurred to Lucius that morning when he received the letter. It would be good to have a regular job – being a school governor had been fun whilst it lasted, and being a man of great leisure had suited him before, but now he wanted more out of his lot in life. He had only been around Hermione for a few days, apart from the meetings they had in her office. It was amazing how she had rubbed off on him, and not in a sexual way either.

"It appears so," Lucius replied.

"And meanwhile, I just have to sit here. Twiddling my thumbs."

Lucius sighed. "Draco, what do you expect me to do, in all honesty?"

"Well for a start, you can tell that jumped up Mudblood Granger that all this probation bollocks can be stopped. Mother's not going anymore, and you shouldn't have to either. Then you can tell her that I've served my time, and I've learnt my lesson. Thirdly, I can walk out of here and I can get back on track with my own sodding life, or what's left of it."

"First off, do not insult Miss Granger. She has been nothing but kind when dealing with this mess-"

"Is that what you're calling it? And since when have you got so pally with her?" Draco snarled.

"You might not be under my roof anymore, son, but you will treat me with respect. You will leave Miss Granger alone. Secondly, you are to be serving seven life sentences. You have only completed one."

Draco smirked. "Maybe they'll let me out on good behaviour."

"Maybe they will not. Draco, do you even understand the seriousness of your actions? You tortured and murdered seven Muggles-"

"Those bitches deserved everything that they got. Dirty blood. Nasty blood. Didn't you always teach me that we were supreme in comparison to their worthless lives? And they're fucking women! They'll jump on top of a man, take what they can and nine months later, they'll pop out another Muggle. Another blot of ink on the paper thin world of society."

"That was my thoughts then, but this is the now. Draco, you will take your punishment like a man-"

"Like you did before You-Know-Who broke you out and put you under house arrest, along with your wonderful family?"

"Draco, I have changed. Everything is different now-"

"You have ten minutes," Warden Salisbury said from the shadows of the room.

Lucius rubbed his chin. Tiredness crept through his body. Arguing with his son would not help matters at all. He was a fool - a stubborn little fool. He still did not know what had possessed him to commit the crimes that he had. When Draco had first been arrested, he had tried to understand what had been going on in his son's head, but everything was a blurred mess.

"When you get older, you will understand. You will realise that men, and women, are capable of change."

"Are you speaking from personal experience, father?"

"Do not be so impertinent, you are still little more than a child."

"I'm the same age as that Mudblood that keeps our file under lock and key."

To his horror, Draco was right. He had been so swept up in the early days of their, for lack of a better word, relationship, that the age difference had not bothered him. He was in his late forties, and she? She was only twenty-one. He felt the blood run out of his cheeks.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost, father. Don't worry, it happens sometimes." Draco grinned wickedly as he stood and moved to the door as a claxon like noise sounded the end of their visit. Lucius could only stare at the table, fear curling around his brain.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Fear not, this will not be the end of Draco Malfoy! I just wanted to make that clear - he will be making more appearances in this Lumione!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen – Coming Home**

Before Lucius left to visit Azkaban that morning, he had shown her to one of the most amazing sights she had ever seen. The library at Malfoy Manor almost rivalled that of Hogwarts – simply put, it was beautiful. Spacious in itself, the library was on two floors and the shelves went from floor to ceiling. Two sets of spiral staircases veered at the left and right, giving access to more even books. It was light and airy, with scalloped curtains that were held back by ties at the plush window seats. An enchanted fire blazed merrily in the wall, keeping away the cold. Towards the right was a rotating globe of the Earth, and on tables nearby were models of the solar system, measuring scales and a rest to store books. On the left were worktables, covered in reams of parchment, bottles of ink of various colours and a large selection of quills.

Hermione barely heard Lucius leave. She had already hurried to a shelf and started to scan it, finding many magical texts that she had never read before. Pulling down a book on Arithmancy, she curled up on the window seat, letting the sun stream through onto her face as she turned the pages.

Around midday, Batsy the House Elf entered, carrying a small silver tea tray. All of the Elves each wore a black band around their upper arm, a mark of respect for their fellow fallen Elf. Batsy simply left the tray at the other end of the window seat and disappeared before Hermione could even speak. Careful not to drop crumbs on the book or to dislodge the remaining lunch and teapot that was left, Hermione started nibbling on the ham hock and edam cheese sandwich. The author had a real passion for the subject and it showed, as she found herself falling deeper and deeper into the non-fiction book.

"I thought I might find you here."

Hermione looked up from the book to see Lucius stepping towards her. His travelling cloak hung over his arm displaying the smart robes and suit beneath. His cane was in his hand, giving the aura of power and authority. This was Lucius Malfoy and the world would remember the influence he once had.

The only thing that shattered the illusion was the small smile he wore as he gazed at her.

Outside, night had fallen. She hadn't realised the lamps that had been lit around her, nor had she realised how hungry she had become.

Carefully, Lucius moved the empty tea tray to the floor, and joined her on the window seat. Hermione sat up. Looking into his eyes, he had lost some of the light that usually sparkled there.

"How did your visit go this morning?" she asked, in low tones.

"Draco is doing well. I think he's forgetting his place though. Believes that the Minister will release him for good behaviour."

She laid her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Lucius."

"Do not concern yourself, petal. I spoke with the admin witch at the reception area. The attitude that my son gives, and the accidents that occur around him are a solid case against him. That, and the length of the sentences he's serving…" Lucius trailed off.

"Still, at least you went. He knows you care about him, even if things aren't the same."

Lucius fiddled with the top of his cane, before speaking again. "He mentioned you, actually."

"Did he?" She tried to mask her surprise, but it was clear she could not. Once Lucius had told her about what Draco had said, she couldn't help but let a smile play about her lips. "He does know that I don't have that kind of power at the Ministry, right?"

"I think that because you are working on the case, he will forever hold you responsible, petal. And for that, I'm sorry."

She lightly kissed his smooth cheek, inhaling the musky, sandalwood cologne that he had put on that morning. "You don't have to be sorry."

"I have something I'd like to talk to you about, though, if that's okay?"

She nodded, but couldn't stop the squirming sensation in her stomach. Whenever a phrase like that came out of someone's mouth, it was sure to end badly.

With Viktor in the fourth year, it was that the Triwizard Tournament had finished and he would be moving back home to Bulgaria, but he would still like to keep in contact with her.

With the disaster that was Cormac McLaggen in the sixth year, it was that he wanted to see other people – which was completely fine with her (he had only been a distraction and kissing him had been like kissing a whelk).

Not long after the Battle of Hogwarts where she had fought side by side (and lost her virginity) with Ronald, it was the realisation that they worked better as friends than they ever did as a couple.

Now, she had to wonder what she had done wrong.

"I've spoken with the Ministry today. A young man is taking care of my family's case in your leave. Name of Peter McCann. Nice fellow, seems to know what he's talking about at any rate."

Peter had been a few years ahead of her at Hogwarts. A Ravenclaw, he could often be found in the library, working in a section not far away from Hermione. The pair had exchanged pleasantries, and occasionally spoken long into the night about essays. He had been a lovely person at school, although when nervous he was prone to hiccupping, as proven when he had asked her to the Yule Ball. She had felt sorry for him as she declined the offer, knowing that Viktor's eyes were watching her through the stacks. All embarrassment had left Peter now though. As a Ministry worker, he was efficient, a real hard worker and loved to talk about his wife who stayed at home with their twin toddling girls.

"Peter has gone through the case and Narcissa's probation period is over. Ended the day you arrived here, actually. She's moving to Italy."

"It's lovely at this time of year," Hermione said, rather mechanically.

"Peter also has said that I've showed a great willingness to change. He has…" Lucius stopped and adjusted the smart tie he wore. "He has recommended a job for me. At Hogwarts."

Hermione felt all her fears vanish. She had not expected this - she hadn't even considered aspects of the case like that. In fact since the Healer had studied her that day, work had all but nearly left her mind.

"Lucius, that's amazing news! Congratulations!"

"Thank you, petal."

"What is the job doing?" She half imagined him working for friend and gamekeeper, Hagrid, and his half-giant assistant brother, Grawp. The thought made her grin like the Cheshire Cat in the Muggle story.

"Professor's assistant in the Herbology Department. Your old friend Neville Longbottom will be responsible for me."

Hermione beamed. "Lucius, this is fantastic. Are you going to take it?"

"Do you think I should?" He looked her square in the eye.

"Yes! It's a huge honour to be asked back – I always wanted to be a teacher, if I couldn't help others." She remembered the mock classroom she created with teddies and books in her bedroom when she was a young girl. She would mark an imaginary register, put people in detention, read stories at home time, and mark scrap paper with comments like, _Must try harder, Amy. Good job, Finley. 10/10 - well done, Jake. See me please, Rosie._

Lucius smiled warmly and reached for her hand. "If I take the role, you know what this means, don't you?"

"If you expect me to call you Professor when we're in bed, you're sorely mistaken!"

"Now there's a thought." He kissed her hand in a way that made a fire burn in her stomach. "No, what it means is, we would be able to be together."

"I thought we already were," she said quietly. Had she missed the memo?

"To me, we are petal." He blushed, an incredibly human gesture. "If I accept the position at Hogwarts, then my probation stops. It's no longer a conflict of interest for either of us. Draco is in Azkaban, and Peter can handle that situation. It means that we can go public, if that's what you want." He paused, before adding, "I don't know whether you'd want to. I used to be despicable to you, Hermione, and so was my family in the older days. Add in that to the equation that I'm much older than you. I have an ex-wife, a son your age, and-"

She silenced him with a kiss as she crawled onto his lap. When she was settled so that she was straddling him, she kissed her way up to his ear. Lucius let out the lightest of moans. She could feel him hardening beneath her.

Nipping his earlobe, she whispered, "Maybe I like being with a silver fox."

His resulting groan was all she needed to hear.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty – Meetings at the Ministry**

Standing before the Minister's office the next morning, Hermione felt sick to her stomach. Her head was pounding, and as she waited for admittance, she swore that her breakfast would come up. Those House Elves were intent on fattening her up, even though she had assured them that she did want another helping of breakfast pancakes that morning. Lucius was just as bad. That being said, the House Elves didn't dip fruit into melted chocolate and tease her mercilessly.

"Miss Granger, the Minister will see you now," the admin witch said, looking up from the parchment that she was magically stamping.

Hermione nodded. Her hand trembled as she placed it on the knob and stepped into the room.

Kingsley Shacklebolt always had excellent taste. The room was dressed in shades of beige and brown, creating a warmth that was rivalled by the small fire for Floo powder usage. The ornately carved desk was organised, more so than Hermione's office was. An orange orchid bloomed in an African themed pot near to the fire and a woven rug took up most of the floor space. A small barn owl sat on its perch, head under its wing, but peeked out as Hermione entered. Assured that the visitor was not a danger to its owner, he hid himself away.

Kingsley sat upright and conjured a tray of drinks at her arrival. He beamed.

"Hermione, what a pleasant surprise! You're supposed to be on sick leave, aren't you?"

She nodded, adding, "I'm feeling a bit better now."

"Can I get you tea? Coffee?"

"Just water, please." Hermione took the spare seat opposite Kingsley, her robes billowing as she settled, and her heels clicking against the floor. She had let Lucius pull her hair back into a long ponytail that morning, and he had secured it with a black ribbon. Shivers ran down her spine as she sat, watching Kingsley prepare himself a coffee, and pour her a glass. Her fingers shook as she accepted it, but didn't drink. Although she trusted the drink not to have been spiked with any potion, she just felt like she would spill it everywhere and ruin her seemingly calm demeanour.

"What can I do for you today, Hermione?" He smiled at her, before opening a drawer and pulling out a tray of seemingly homemade biscuits. He took one, the crumbs landing on the desk and offered them to Hermione. She shook her head. Why did everyone want to fatten her up?

"I… It's hard to explain."

"Well, start at the beginning."

And she did.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione left the Ministry, her heart lighter than it had been. Kingsley had accepted the story in his stride, with a mutter of, "I should have expected something like this really." He still held her to the sick leave protocol, and expected her back in her office when her healer's note expired. He wished her luck for the future, with a smile that she had not expected in the slightest. This was better than she had hoped.

She Apparated into Diagon Alley, and headed towards the little café that Lucius had promised to meet her at, after his own meeting with the new case worker. She chose a table outside, and settled herself into the chair beneath the sun umbrella. Stretching her legs out, the sun just catching them, she almost felt like she was on holiday. The thought made her giggle to herself – would Lucius ever lie on a beach, the sand between his toes, or would he prefer to visit places of interest like she and her parents did?

She had been waiting ten minutes before Lucius came striding towards the café, his cane clicking on the cobblestones. He looked smart as ever, his own hair tied back too. When he was in front of her, he dropped a light kiss on her lips in front of startled wizards and witches. He slid into the chair opposite her, looking relieved.

"How did it go?" she asked nervously.

"You first," he replied.

"Well, Kingsley wants me to continue the sick leave, as planned. He's going to lighten my workload for the return so that nothing like this happens again. Me passing out, I mean."

"You can keep your job?"

She nodded. "Peter was more than happy to take over the case – he was excited to have something with a bit more grit to it."

She reached for the menu on the table, but Lucius caught her hand. He laid a kiss on each of her fingertips. "What about us?" he murmured against her skin.

"Well Kingsley wishes us all the best." She smiled, and resisted a moan as he nippd the skin.

"And he wasn't bothered about the age gap?"

"You've giving yourself a complex, you realise? There's nothing wrong with your age."

"You say that now. You wait until a few years down the line and I'm creaking with arthritis, moaning about my cholesterol and… Hermione, why are you looking at me in that strange way?"

She dropped her gaze back to the menu, trying to focus on what she wanted for lunch, instead of the prospect of this being more than just a passing fling. Mr Malfoy was certainly full of surprises. Next thing she knew, he'd be asking her to move into the manor with him!

"Petal?"

"I'm just thinking how my parents are going to react about me dating an older man. That being said, I think you might get on with them. They have a beautiful garden back at their home. Little patio to have barbeques on in the summer." She smiled, as the waitress appeared and took their orders – Hermione, the bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, and Lucius, the steak and onion baguette.

"Your parents work with teeth, don't they?" The surprise must have shown on her face, because he added, "I remember useful information like that. When do you want me to meet them?"

Her jaw dropped. "M-meet them?"

"Isn't it protocol in the Muggle world for the boyfriend to meet the parental figures? To ensure that I'm not going to hurt her?"

She blushed heavily at the word 'boyfriend' as the sandwich landed under her nose. She ripped a piece of lettuce off and chewed it thoughtfully. "How did your meeting go, then?"

He sat straighter in his chair. "Just call me Assistant Professor Malfoy. I start in September."

Hermione beamed. Things were starting to look up. She just had to break the news to her parents, Harry and Ginny, and she supposed, Ronald.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Forgive me for not updating in a few days, readers! I've had appointments since Wednesday and by the time I get to my laptop, I'm so tired! Never fear though, I am back, and I have the next set of chapters planned out. Thank you once again to those who follow, favourite, read, and review, it is much appreciated and inspired me to continue!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One – Mail Call**

 _One month later…_

Draco lay on the top bunk, hands resting on his stomach. His calves ached from running laps in the graveyard that morning, and he had pushed himself further today, competing against the Mudblood from floor two. Both men had kept an even pace with each other, but the Mudblood had overtaken Draco slightly. And so Draco had put on a burst of speed. Running like this reminded him of the drills his Quidditch captains had put him under at school, before he hopped onto his broomstick and searched for the elusive Golden Snitch, until darkness fell and training could not continue.

Those were the days. Days of triumph and glory. Draco was big headed, he could admit that now. He had often walked around the castle with a swagger that made others hate him - and of course, the people who hated him were teachers and students alike. None would have approached him though apart from idiot Potter and his little friends. His inner circle had so often surrounded him, and he had been the toast of the Slytherin dorms from the moment he set foot in the Entrance Hall on his first day. Hell, even that pug faced trollop Pansy Parkinson had worshipped him as if he were a God, and had been more than willing to give away her virginity to him.

"Malfoy, you have mail."

Draco sat up, nearly bumping his head on the stone ceiling. Outside the cell stood Warden Salisbury, clutching a fat envelope. Mail was scarce in Azakban – parents sometimes received cards and letters from their children or loved ones, but others scarcely heard from anyone during their internment. Every piece of mail that entered was screened for spells and curses by the top Aurors and members of high ranking Ministry staff.

Draco's blood boiled. He had just received mail, and he instantly thought of Potter with his hands all over his personal mail, reading what others had written to him.

Warden Saisbury tossed the envelope to Draco, who caught it. The Seeker's reflexes were coming back – he and a few other wizards tossed fruit to each other around the mess hall and the graveyard, almost as if they were Quaffles and Bludgers. As much as he felt like a bleeding Muggle during that time, he had to admit, having that little joy made things all worthwhile.

As he slit it open with a fingernail, he was puzzled to see that they were all various clippings from the Prophet. He picked the first one up and read the headline: _DOES BLOOD MATTER AFTER ALL THIS TIME?_ It was a dated article, but the Skeeter woman had certainly started something, insinuating that his father was seeing that Granger Mudblood.

Everything that followed disturbed him, utterly and completely.

News correspondent Michelle Dodd's article was taken up by three moving photographs. The first was of his father kissing Granger's cheek in a smart café. The second was of the pair holding hands across the table, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. The final image was the pair kissing in front of shop in Diagon Alley, shopping bags in his fathers hands. The headline screamed _GRAN-FOY – THE LATEST COUPLE TO SHOCK BRITAIN._ Draco felt sick as he read the article, which revealed that the pair were officially seeing each other.

News correspondent Susan Ray's article featured one photograph. It was taken in front of Malfoy Manor. His father and Granger had their wands out as they levitated boxes through the front door. This headline proclaimed _GRAN-FOY DEVELOPMENTS IN THE MANOR._ The Mudblood had apparently moved into the manor, an idea that was his father's, according to the newspaper clipping.

News correspondent Isabelle Henson's article was a few sheets long, featuring exclusive interviews with both parties, stating that they had not expected to fall in love with each other, and this was most certainly love. Family, friends and co-workers had not seen this coming, but were happy for the pair, even Potter and the red haired blood traitor. The interview finished with plans for the future – his father was heading to Hogwarts were he would be working in the Herbology department, and Granger was still in the Ministry, although she was waiting to hear from several job interviews.

The rest of the pull out special featured several shots of his father – from his younger days at Hogwarts, to a family portrait, to one from Azkaban, finishing with a casual shot of him sat in the library with a glass of wine in his hand. There were also several shots of Granger – Hogwarts again, her Undesirable portrait from the war, her graduation from Hogwarts and finished with her opening the door to the Manor house to welcome the Henson and the photographer inside.

Draco scrambled from the bunk, newspaper clippings flying everywhere, and vomited in the corner of the room. Bile stung his throat as he emptied his stomach, before sinking back on the balls of his feet. The effort exhausted him, and his head spun and he sank against the floor. He rested his forehead to the cold, stone ground. He felt lucky that this cell was his own for the time being – Dexter had been taken away to the hospital wing a week ago, and no one had heard anything from him since.

How could his father do this to him? How? He had disgraced the Malfoy name, and all the ideals that they had held, and what had been ingrained into him from birth! To top it off, his father had turned up to that visit and had not even told him to his face about the developments in his romantic life. This wasn't right, this was wrong, this was… He didn't know where he stood anymore.

A creak at the cell door, and Draco tried to pull himself into a kneeling position. The cell already smelt of sick and he was thankful when an Auror cast the Scourgify charm, although the smell continued to linger. The door closed again and he saw thin, worn shoes coming towards him.

"Are you sure that run didn't kill you, Malfoy?"

He looked up into the eyes of the Mudblood wizard who had raced him this morning. The wizard was tall, with long black hair that fell into blue eyes. The prison outfit still fit his muscled frame, and it was more noticeable than when they had been running this morning.

The man held his hand out to Draco.

"You clearly know who I am. Who are you?" Draco asked, as he shook, and was pulled to his feet.

"Peter Matthew. Your new best friend."


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for being so patient with me, and huge thanks to every single person who takes the time to favourite, alert and review. I've not had a good few days health wise. This chapter wasn't how I originally planned it but it works so much better. The story is taking a few new turns, and I'm so excited for still what is to come - secrets, surprises and more. Nothing is ever simple in my world.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two – Life at the Manor**

Life at Malfoy Manor was certainly nothing like living in her old flat. When Lucius had suggested that she move in with him, she thought that this was suddenly moving far too fast, but he was a very persuasive man. If the truth was being told, she was also surprised. No man had ever wanted to live with her before – those months on the run hunting Horcruxes with Harry and Ronald, sharing a tent, did not count. It had taken mere hours for them both to magically clear the house, pack her belongings, ship them to the Manor and clean, but it took at least a week for all the Muggle paperwork to be dealt with. The gentleman at the estate agent wished her well when the papers went through, minutes before sticking a 'For Rent' sign in one of the street facing windows.

For starters, the hot water in the Manor bathroom wasn't temperamental. She could enjoy a hot bath, reading a book, without hearing the pipework gurgle unpleasantly, or hear people on the streets shouting drunken slurs at each other on a Friday or Saturday evening. She could have a shower without the water turning cold, although more often than not she was joined by Lucius in the morning. It was a miracle she got to work on time. The things that man could do with his mouth and hands…

Although she had been used to doing household chores and cooking without the aid of the House Elves for a while, she realised that she was fighting a losing battle. The Elves were insistent that they help her – no task was too small, although certain rooms were still not to be cleaned, no matter how much Hermione insisted that they be aired out. They pushed her away and vanished into the rooms, and spelled them so that only an Elf or Lucius was permitted to enter.

Lucius had caught her talking to the Elves about holidays and wages on one occasion. They had not taken well to her speech and they had hidden in their shared quarters, squealing something about the new Lady of the Manor having no respect for their way of life. Lucius had explained it in a very textbook format, nothing that Ronald had tried to do all those years ago at Hogwarts when the Winky fiasco had occurred. Of course it helped that he had punctuated each of his statements with kisses and caresses…

Every morning she left the Manor promptly by Floo Powder, arriving in her office to deal with caseloads, write proposals and legislation, and speak in meetings. Sometimes, she met friends for lunch in Diagon Alley, other times she ate in the staff canteen. In the evenings, she would return home, where she and Lucius ate in the little kitchen, under the eye of watchful House Elves. They would talk about their days, before retiring to the bathroom, bedroom, library, or the gardens for an evening stroll.

Sometimes Lucius would meet with Kingsley to watch sports matches beamed into The Leaky Cauldron via a television – a new concept to some of the patrons who found the whole thing fascinating. On those nights, Hermione would sometimes visit with her own friends, or they sometimes came to the Manor.

Harry and Ginny had agreed to a civilised dinner with Lucius after the Prophet's article was published. They had arrived at the door promptly, although Ginny was adamant that she take one of the many white peacocks home with them, to Lucius' amusement. When Hermione had opened the door she had been pleased to see them, although certainly surprised that Ronald and Jeannette had arrived too.

That evening had been awkward, but Harry conceded that Lucius had really changed. By the end of the evening, the pair were having an animated talk about the Quidditch League over coffee, whilst Ginny pumped her for gossip on their sex life, while simultaneously stuffing after dinner mints into her mouth. Ronald had eaten everything that had been put in front of him, made disgruntled noises about the whole affair, and refused to join in the Quidditch discussion, wanting to leave as soon as the meal was over. Jeannette, meanwhile, had nibbled daintily and told everyone as many times as she could that she had a modelling contract in France soon, and that she had to watch what she ate. Only Ronald seemed to listen to her, and reminded everyone on their departure that they would be out of the country for a while.

The turn up for the books was how well Mr and Mrs Granger had accepted Lucius into their lives. Robert Granger and Lucius discussed plants, flowers and the best ways to grow your own produce. He had been overwhelmed by the gardens, and even more startled when a House Elf walked past with a heavy silver watering can. Evelyn Granger busied herself with making sure everyone had tea and cake when they visited, and spoke of literature and decorating, asking for Lucius' advice on the best places to travel in Europe for their next holiday – it turned out Lucius was very well travelled, but that was to be expected.

Lucius himself had opened his home to the Grangers, and they in turn, him. Although they still had yet to stay for a full Sunday lunch, it was clear that the Grangers accepted their relationship and wished them luck for their future.

"What are you thinking about, petal?" Lucius asked on Saturday morning, as he dropped a kiss to Hermione's bare shoulder, bringing her out of her happy thoughts.

"Nothing in particular." She rolled over to face him properly in their bed, letting the sunlight from the curtain lay across their bodies.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said, lightly kissing his lips. "Good morning, by the way."

He smiled, catching one of her curls and playing with it. "You are happy with me, aren't you?"

"Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"I was just thinking about September…"

"September is still a few months away. We'll worry about it then." Hermione crossed her fingers under the quilt, hoping that she would be invited to an interview with Minerva McGonagall soon. She hadn't exactly discussed her new plans with Lucius, although she knew that honesty was the best policy in a relationship.

"I know, I just don't want to leave you by yourself."

"I won't be. The Elves will always be here. Speaking of, Batsy won't leave me alone this past week or so. Keeps shoving cake and croissants at me, telling me I need to drink more…" Hermione chuckled.

"Didn't you know? She's a feeder, like me." Lucius captured her lips and Hermione felt herself melt into the bed. "Don't forget, half past six tonight, we're meeting your parents at The Leaky Cauldron. The reservation's at seven."

"Where exactly are we going again?"

"Al Freedo's. It's just opened not long ago. Italian. Sounds very nice from the Prophet reviews."

"And we're taking my parents on our date night, why?"

He tapped his nose and then hers. "It's a secret."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three – "I Know It's Fast"**

Al Freedo's was a beautiful little restaurant just off the main stretch of Diagon Alley. It took only minutes to walk along the cobblestones, passing crowds of late night shoppers and couples on dates. Owls flew past lamplights, parcels and letters clamped to beaks and legs, whilst cats meandered through crowds, hoping that those buying street food would drop a tasty morsel. Hermione felt a pang as she remembered dear old Crookshanks, and nearly tripped over the hem of her deep green and black velvet dress. Gangs of children were trying to pull their parents into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which was still booming with business at this time of night. The twins ran a fine establishment, although it had been several long months before Fred had been allowed to return to the store - not doctor's orders, but his mothers. The explosion that should have killed him during the Battle of Hogwarts had stunned him badly, affecting his memory and mobility issues. Nowadays, he still walked with a slight limp and had a raised scar beneath his untidy red hair, but he was still the same old Fred, much to George's delight.

Hermione and Lucius had met with the Grangers promptly, Lucius embracing them both as if they were old friends. They had arrived at the restaurant with plenty of time to spare. Inside, tables had pretty linen tablecloths and place settings. Each table was lit with floating candles in glass jars. In a corner of the restaurant, a young wizard played the violin with great talent, whist a witch sang soft opera to accompany him. Baskets of roses floated from table to table, along with note cards proclaiming the prices.

The waiter greeted them, and took their coats to hang behind their small reception area. He shook hands with Lucius and Mr Granger, kissing Hermione and her mother's cheek. He escorted them to a table near a tropical fish tank, to Mr Granger's delight. The waiter reeled off a list of specials, took orders for drinks, handed out menus, and rushed off to meet more guests.

"This is a very lovely looking place, Lucius," Mr Granger said, his eyes sliding towards the fish tank where two small clownfish and a blue tang chased each other merrily.

"It is, isn't it?" Lucius poured everyone a glass of white wine and replaced the bottle into the ice bucket by his side. "Cheers everyone."

They clinked glasses, before each perusing the menu. Hermione found herself overwhelmed by the choices. It all sounded so delicious, she wanted to try everything from starters to puddings. She could smell spices and herbs from the kitchens and her mouth watered in anticipation, as the waiter approached with a pad of parchment and a small neat quill.

The conversation flowed well. Hermione's parents were going on a coach trip to a flower festival in the upcoming weeks, and her father regaled them with tales of his new receptionist at the dentistry. She had never seen her parents look so smart, except perhaps at the Hogwarts graduation ceremony. Although, this was hardly the place to wear jeans and a jumper, she realised. Lucius looked as handsome as ever, his hair back, his cane gleaming.

"I have some news," Hermione piped up as the main courses arrived. The braised rabbit pappardelle smelt heavenly, and she was glad she had chosen that instead of chicken.

"Do tell," her mother said, sipping from the wine glass. Her cheeks looked slightly rosy - her mother was not a big drinker, but the wine was going down a little too well.

Hermione sneaked a glance at Lucius, but he merely kept his face blank.

"I've been invited for an interview. For a job."

"Oh darling, that's great news! Congratulations!" Her father, sat to her right, squeezed her fingers lightly. "Where is it? What is it doing? You'll have to tell us everything."

Looking Lucius straight in the eye, she said, "It's at Hogwarts."

Lucius seemed to pale for a moment before speaking. "Did you say Hogwarts, petal?"

"Don't be mad, okay? You know I love working at the Ministry, I really do, but I never truly felt like I was at home working there. The work is challenging enough, yes, and I like the people and cases, but Hogwarts always did feel like home. Minerva – my old Transfiguration professor and head of house," she added for her parents benefit, "has invited me up to the castle on Monday for an interview. For the position of head librarian."

Lucius' eyes glimmered. "That's certainly a perfect role for you, my little bookworm. Surrounded by musty old books all day long, chasing innocent students out at bedtime, reading anything you can lay your hands on."

His words sounded harsh, but by now, she could tell when he was in a good mood. In the early days, whilst she was still on sick leave, he often found her curled in the window seat, devouring book after book after book. "You're not cross with me then?"

"Why would I be cross with you? You're a grown woman, you can make your own choices. And that job sounds like it will be a great opportunity for you. You're sure to get it! Is Irma retiring?"

"Irma?" For a moment, Hermione was lost. Then she remembered the vulture like, strict witch who looked irritated and annoyed when she and Viktor Krum had kissed hungrily against a bookshelf several hours after the Second Task at the Triwizard Tournament.

"Oh, you mean Madam Pince?" She laughed. "Yes, but she's not happy about it. She's not well, the poor woman."

"Well, I wish you all the best of luck, dear." Mr Granger squeezed her hand again, his eyes sliding to the garlic bread in the middle of the table. "Shall we tuck in now? It looks lovely."

Hermione felt Lucius' eyes on through the entire meal. Although her dinner was as heavenly as she had originally thought, Lucius' gaze seemed to dampen her spirits slightly. This was a good meal, a splendid place to be, and she could be going back to school, as silly as that sounded in her head. As her parents excused themselves to use the rest rooms, she turned to Lucius.

"Are you sure that you're not cross with me? I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I'm just very surprised, that's all. I honestly thought you were happy at the Ministry." He topped up the wine glasses on the table.

"I am really, I just fancied a change. Like I said, Hogwarts is like a-"

"Home, yes." He paused as the wine bottle jostled around the melting ice in the bucket. "Is this job something to do with me starting work at the school in September?"

Hermione felt conflicted. Yes, she was slightly annoyed about his prospects, but it would be a good thing for him. A chance to prove to the world that he was more than what the papers said about him or the gossip rags like Witch Weekly. She knew all too well though that her professors had barely returned home, never knowing where they stayed during the holidays. She was in a brand new relationship and-

"I didn't want to loose you already," she whispered, feelings tears prick the corner of her eyes. She felt like an idiot now. She was glad that her mascara was waterproof.

"That'll never happen." He kissed her lips lightly. "Never, ever, in a million years, will you loose me."

"Are we ready for dessert?" the waiter interrupted nervously. Mr and Mrs Granger slipped into their seats, Mrs Granger still wiping her hands on a cloth napkin from the rest room. Mr Granger fiddled with his tie.

"Yes, please. As soon as possible, good man," Lucius said, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face. As soon as the words left his lips, the waiter was already gone, as if he had Disapparated.

Hermione frowned. "Is he not going to ask what I'd like? What anyone else would like?" She had been eying up the tiramisu ice-cream cake since spotting it on the menu.

Lucius didn't reply, but turned from her. He struck up a conversation about roses with Mr Granger as the basket floated back towards their table, circled once and headed towards the door to where more people where entering. Hermione frowned. Lucius was acting very strange tonight. He seemed on edge, like a bomb was going to explode at any second and he was responsible for it. Which was a ridiculous notion. She mentally shook herself.

The candles had dimmed around them, making it seem even cosier. The waiter returned with a small side plate and placed it before Hermione. He stepped back, biting his lip. Everyone seemed to be looking at their table.

"Aren't you having pudding?" she asked her parents, before her eyes dropped to her own.

 _Look to your left,_ was written in an elegant script of chocolate sauce in the middle of the plate. The rim was adorned with sliced strawberries, an icing sugar dusting and a few small sprigs of mint leaves.

Hermione did as the plate suggested, and her eyes widened at the sight of Lucius, on one knee, beside her. She could not stop staring at him, and she was sure her mouth was open like a goldfish – this was like something out of a romance novel, she thought, as he reached for her left hand. Things like this did not happen to girls like her.

"Hermione, I know it's fast, but I love you. Truly, madly, deeply, you beautiful witch. I can't bear the thought of you not being by my side. You have made me into a better man, and I don't deserve your kindness, generosity, your intellect, your friendship, and your love. Not after my shameful past, which is behind me now. And, with your parents blessings, I would like to ask you…" He took a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the ground once before flicking back up to meet hers. "Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry me?"

Tears were trickling slowly down her cheeks, as she caught her parents' eyes, the looks of everyone around her in the restaurant on tenterhooks, and the look of love that her wizard was giving her. She nodded, her smile turning into a grin as a, "Yes," escaped her throat, before more tears threatened to ruin the most romantic moment of her entire life.

Lucius pulled a small box from his pocket. It was black velvet, and nestled inside a ruby red silk material was a perfect ring. It fit like it had been made for her as he slid the simple, shining silver band onto her ring finger. The diamond in the centre glinted in the candlelight, as Lucius rose to meet Hermione's lips.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four – Mrs Malfoy**

The weekend was spent in a rose tinted bubble that nobody could break. She was sure it was a dream, but after pinching the skin on the back of her hand multiple times over so that she bruised, she had to finally admit that this was her new reality. The Prophet had got wind of the engagement and were offering to throw them a lavish party – it would be the celebration to end all celebrations, and also sales of the newspaper would skyrocket. Lucius had declined and threatened to hex the next person to offer them a party in exchange for interviews. Hermione had snorted with laughter into her coffee cup, especially when Lucius dropped his fist into a platter of butter, smearing it everywhere.

They had received letters, notes and cards from well-wishers up and down the country, as well as from family and friends, mainly from Hermione's side of things. The Weasley family inundated the manor with their love, making up for some of the nasty howlers they received.

Molly and Arthur Weasley had sent them a huge basket of homemade goodies, complete with a charmed card that shouted 'Congratulations!' every time someone walked past it. The card was currently wedged under the fruit bowl and no one was to go near it, especially the House Elves…

Bill's family had sent flowers and Charlie's owl arrived carrying a rather singed letter - the Romanian hatchlings were little buggers, apparently.

Percy had in typical Percy fashion sent a three page letter that soon veered from well wishes to his own pompous ramblings about how he was climbing the ladder again at the Ministry - something Hermione was already aware of. That was boring compared to Fred and George who sent a basket of naughty edible treats and potions from their store - something that Lucius wanted to try out immediately. He had found the jelly thong a rather enticing affair and he had chased a red faced Hermione to their bedroom in the middle of the afternoon.

Ron had sent a letter from France that looked like it had been written with a stick, whereas Jeannette had sent them a pair of tickets to see a show at the Moulin Rouge on their honeymoon, which was a kind gesture.

Ginny and Harry had actually come over to see them, bringing numerous bottles of wine, boxes of luxury chocolates and heartfelt congratulations.

It was a nice feeling, to be loved like this. When her ring caught the light, Hermione could not help but beam at her handsome silver fox husband to be.

Monday came all too soon, and with that came the bone crushing sense of normality. Lucius had begged Hermione to call in sick and stay in bed with him all day (he had found an edible bra in the basket), but she could not be swayed. When she arrived via the Floo Network at the Ministry, people she had never met before shouted their congratulations and words of good well to her, to her honest surprise. Walking into her office with flushed cheeks, she had not expected to have company.

"Good morning, Miss Granger."

Narcissa Black rose from the chair before the desk, inclining her head in welcome. Her blonde hair, so similar to Lucius', was now streaked and had taken on a very summer surfer vibe. It was pinned at the back of her head, tendrils falling down her back. She was dressed in smart deep purple and silver dress robes, with smart ankle boots.

"Miss Black." Hermione greeted her, although she felt her voice stick in her throat. She carefully hung up her cloak, and crossed to the desk. "What can I do for you? Can I offer you a drink – I can get some tea and coffee, if you would like?"

"I'm not staying long, dear. And once you've had coffee by the waters of Lake Garda, you realise no other country can compete." She smiled softly before sitting gracefully back in her chair, crossing her ankles. "I thought I would visit whilst I was in London in business. Offer my sincerest congratulations. You have snared yourself a very handsome man."

"I…"

"Please Miss Granger, I mean no disrespect with my words. It is just that you did not seem the type to be ensnared by a Death Eater." Narcissa's long lashes framed her beautiful eyes.

"Lucius is not a Death Eater anymore. His case here is closing. He's going to help teach at Hogwarts. He's a good man, Miss Black. He has changed." Hermione was growing tired of having to reiterate this to everyone who questioned her relationship.

"Oh yes I saw about that in the papers." She waved her hand as if she were getting rid of cigarette smoke. "I am happy that he is doing well for himself."

Hermione was silent. She didn't really know what to say to this woman. It seemed an odd conversation to be having, especially their positions. She blushed and dropped her gaze as she came to realisation that they had both seen Lucius naked - had both had sex with him. Was she hear to gloat - to taunt her about having seconds?

"I do offer my congratulations, but my dear Miss Granger, be conscientious. He is a Malfoy, and as such you will be too. Unless you are keeping your name?"

"We haven't discussed that-"

"Either way you will be associated with a man who once flaunted his affiliation with the man once known as the Dark Lord. I have been tarnished by that brush before and I am moving on with my life now. I simply want you to be cautious with what you do or say around him and his associates. Danger will surround him again, and therefore, you."

"I have seen danger ever since I started at Hogwarts. I have tangled with danger in ways I never thought I would. I think I can handle marrying Lucius Malfoy." Hermione raised her chin, her words firm. What was with this woman? It was like talking to Trelawney – and she was an old fraud! Was Narcissa here to throw a spanner into the works? Was she truly happy that someone else was going to be taking up the mantle of Mrs Malfoy and rid her of that status? Or did she actually have a point? Hermione opened her mouth to continue, but instead Narcissa rose, adjusting her sleeves.

"I am simply warning you, Miss Granger. Now, I must get going. I said I would meet Silvano at Gringotts, and I don't want to keep him waiting." She strode to the door, the heels of her boots tapping across the floor. She stopped though, with her hand on the knob, turning back slightly. "Do not go gently into that good night, Hermione, but rage, rage against the dying of the light."

As Narcissa Black left, Hermione realised that in all her meetings with the witch, this was the first time that she had been called by her first name. It sent shivers up her spine, especially since the Pureblood witch had quoted Muggle poetry to her. Hermione shook her head, but the words haunted the remainder of her day.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five – Thinking About It**

The morning that the newspaper arrived heralding his father's engagement to that second rate excuse for a witch, Draco was not happy. He had been experiencing nightmares on and off for weeks now, nightmares that left him dripping in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, heart thumping so hard that he was convinced that his new cellmate would hear it from the bunk below. He would take deep breaths until he finally rolled over, planted his face into the threadbare pillow and bit down hard to stop the screams from issuing forth.

When the newspaper was shoved through the bars of the cell, he took one look at it, and managed to get to the window to vomit out of. He made it in time. The wind and sea spray speckled his face, and if he could, Draco would have remained there all day.

"Breakfast, Draco. You need to eat something."

Draco followed Peter Matthew, Mudblood and Gryffindork, down towards the mess halls. Together, the pair waited in line for their meals to be handed to them by the guards, whilst chefs banged and clattered with pots and pans a corridor away. The meal plans were on a rotation so that they could get variety and proper nutrients into their diets. This morning, Draco and Peter were lucky enough to receive watery scrambled eggs on thin wholemeal toast. As the pair sat down at the nearest empty table, Draco felt his stomach roll around once more. The sight of the eggs was enough to make anyone feel sick, apart from Peter, who was cutting into his with precise movements of his knife and fork. Draco had seen the cutlery as weapons when he first arrived, but found out that they had been charmed. If they touched anything else but food, they turned into rubber, doing as little damage as possible.

"I saw the paper," Peter murmured as he filled the glasses with the water jug on the table.

"Father's actually doing it. He's betraying his own kind." Draco looked up and caught Peter's eye. "No offence meant, mate."

Mate. It was a strange word to use in conjunction with Peter. He was a strange young man who looked as if he should be stood in the middle of a Marilyn Manson concert with that mess of black hair. He was so skinny, but powerful, as he had proved it the day he had kept pace with Draco. The pair had agreed to get along for both their sakes, and though Draco had tried his conniving ways to get him out of the cell, Peter hadn't budged. Their minds were equally dark.

A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, as mutual friends. It was like the sodding war all over again. His stomach jolted unpleasantly.

"You really hate Granger, don't you?" Peter asked, setting his knife and fork down beside the plate. The remainder of his eggs continued to wobble on top of the toast, and Draco stared at it.

"Hate isn't the right word." The right word was too despicable to even say even now, years down the line.

"Infuriating rat, isn't she? We were in the same year together, when she came back to sit those exams. Did you know that?"

"Yeah." Draco cleared his throat. "Yeah, you told me."

Peter had told Draco quite a lot really, considering he didn't look the chatty type. His Muggle mother worked in a supermarket (whatever that was). His Muggle father had been one of those please-men before he had died in a car crash when Peter was five. He was an only child, and spoilt by his mother, who had never remarried. He never felt like he truly belonged anywhere, especially after he received his Hogwarts letter in the post.

When he arrived at the school, he kept his head down, stayed out of trouble, supported the Quidditch time and studied hard. He always spent the holidays away from the castle though, preferring that time to be spent with his mother and grandparents in Cornwall. No matter how much he studied though, it seemed like he was never good enough to be anyone's friend - the Charms club didn't want him, and neither did the Gobstones. He couldn't fly, so Quidditch was out.

He had fled the country when the Second War started, staying with relatives on his father's side in Germany. He only returned when the battle was done, and Potter reigned supreme. Starting his seventh year, he had met Granger properly, had actually engaged in conversation with her about anything - schoolwork, friends, trips to Hogsmeade. She had been polite, but there was something off about her. He had disliked her straight away.

Peter's stay in Azkaban wouldn't be for long though. He would be out in a few months when his sentence was finished. He was a model citizen inside the place, claiming of course that the Squib who had been killed had actually begged for death because she was sick – that an illness was consuming her.

Draco knew better. Peter had told him that first night how he had bound the Squib by Muggle and magical means before slicing into his skin, and splitting his throat from ear to ear. Only to seal all the wounds and start all over again, until finally, the Squib gave up trying. Peter had been found in a pool of the Squib's blood. He had cried – all for show, Draco knew all too well. That incident had happened because the Squib had looked at him funny and refused to serve him in the newspaper shop. The Squib had seen evil looking at him in the face, and did not want him to enter.

When he ran in the yard with the others, Draco thought about that crime a lot. Thought how off the rails Peter had gone, all because of a funny look, and yet how different he was, how manipulative. One look had had sent Peter to Azkaban. Draco had maimed and murdered seven Muggle women, and all because of one woman! She hadn't realised it was all for her – it was her fault, all of this. And now, she was shacked up, playing happy families with his fucking father.

Swiping his hand across the table, Draco sent the plates, cutlery and glasses flying. They crashed to the floor where they were smashed to pieces. Several inmates actually cowered in their seats as he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Seething, he followed the familiar path to the graveyard. Rain and wind pounded against his skin, soaking through his clothes. His teeth chattered. He was looking more and more like a bedraggled rat ( _ferret_ , he thought angrily). Sinking to his knees, he curled up beside a gravestone – one where the name had been weathered away, and only moss remained.

He didn't know how long he had sat like that, his head resting on the stone, but he only looked up when he heard the squelch of mud on shoes. Peter was walking towards him, the weather battering him so he looked more like a Dementor than anything else.

"You'll catch your death out here, mate." Peter held out his hand.

Shaking, Draco took it and let himself he hauled upright – how similar it seemed. It was how they met, and now they were actually mates. Friends. He let out a low hollow laugh as Peter escorted him inside and towards the men's bathrooms. Leaning against the sinks, Draco caught sight of himself.

He looked like a vampire. Worse, an Inferi. This was worse than the sixth year when he had been tasked with killing his Headmaster, and he had seemingly retreated further into himself, but that was from fear. He tried to rub the mud from his face, but succeeded in smearing it, like a monkey smashing up a banana. Like a bloody child.

"We'll get her, mate."

"What?" Draco spun and looked up. Peter was lounging on the post between the cubicle doors. All of them were ajar - Peter and Draco were the only people here.

"We'll get her. Me and you. Make Granger pay for what she's done to us. When we're done with her, she won't know what way is up, down, left, right. She'll be a wreck. She'll be worse than that. Between the pair of us, we could actually kill her."

There was silence, for a long minute before –

"How?" Draco asked.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six – Back to School**

 _1 September, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Hermione stepped through the Entrance Hall, butterflies in her stomach. She hadn't felt this nervous returning to her safe space since she was eleven years old, and she had walked through the doors for the first time. It was altogether rather strange sensation. Although she knew many of the castle's secrets thanks to her friendship with Harry and Ronald, she was sure that there were still many to be discovered. She was certain that the castle restricted the students as much as possible, although how James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and the Weasley twins found out so much was still a great mystery. She was positive that since she had accepted employment into the school, things would be much more different.

Peeves the poltergeist whizzed down the stairs, stopping in mid-air to gaze at Hermione.

"Students aren't supposed to be here yet," he started, but did a double take, before cackling loudly. His laughter bounced off the stone walls. "Hermy Herm Hermione! Back for more book learning already, you little swot? You can't keep away, can you?"

"Oh why don't you get gone Peeves?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the annoying floating man. Peeves had been awful since she was young, and he was still awful now it seemed.

He doffed his small cap, grinning. He was a great fan of party hats, although this one seemed more suited to Peter Pan or Robin Hood - it was a noxious green, with a bright yellow feather in the back of it.

"Oh listen to the authority in that voice of yours! I heard a whisper you were going to be working here, but can it really be true? Can the rumours of dark alliances be true as well?"

"You're still here then, Peeves. And still trying to belittle others who are more intelligent than you – well nothing's changed! I shall have to inform the Bloody Baron, you realise?" Lucius sounded bored as he made his way across the hall, curling his arm around Hermione's waist.

Peeves shot back a full metre, before bowing low. "Master Malfoy, you have returned! And truly, what an honour it is to be receiving you - I heard of the difficulties your family had, and I'd like to offer my-"

"Save it for someone who's actually listening to what you have to say. As my bride to be has said already – get gone, Peeves."

Peeves nodded, nearly dropping the hat from his hands. He bowed low, almost turning in on himself in the process, before zooming off the way he had come, sounded quite frightened.

Hermione sighed. "Of all the castles in all the world, why the hell is Peeves here?"

Lucius shrugged and squeezed her lightly. "Merlin only knows. He's always been like that around me though - think it was something to do with my father, but I can't be sure. Oh, Minerva - you're looking well."

Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, Transfiguration teacher and registered Animagus, did indeed look well for her age. There were a few more grey streaks in her hair now, and there were visible wrinkled lines around her eyes. Time had taken its toll on her, and the Battle for Hogwarts had not been easy on anyone. She still held herself in a dignified manner though, her black robes neatly pressed, with a new tartan ribbon tied around the base of her hat. She smiled.

"Lucius, Hermione, it's so wonderful to see you again." Minerva shook hands with Lucius, before pressing a kiss to Hermione's cheek. "How was the journey?"

Hermione had always taken the Hogwarts Express up to the castle, but things were different now. The House Elves at the Manor had packed their belongings and necessary items, before sending them via the Floo Network to Minerva's office, whereupon the Hogwarts Elves took over to move them into their new quarters. It hadn't taken long, but Hermione had felt dizzy just watching them.

The evening before, Hermione and Lucius had Apparated into Hogsmeade and stayed overnight in a small suite above The Three Broomsticks. After enjoying a small meal and a few drinks in the bar, and a walk around the village, they had retired. The room had been comfortable and cosy with patchwork quilts and plump pillows, and a small fire glowing in the grate.

Early in the morning, after breakfast of toast and cereal, they had taken a Thestral carriage up to the castle. Both of them had been quiet at the carriage's approach, especially as they could both see the creatures now, and the journey up the roads seemed a little awkward. At seeing the castle, everything seemed to turn back to normal.

"I have no complaints. Rosmerta has certainly outdone herself with the rennovations, hasn't she?" Lucius replied.

"I must say, I have not been in as much as I probably should. Things have been busy, appointing new staff members, including yourselves. Even though You-Know-Who's reign of terror is over, people are still reluctant to take up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. We've found a lovely gentleman though, hails from Japan. You'll meet him tonight at the Feast."

Hermione nodded. It felt weird meeting Minerva in these circumstances, and she still held a great degree of respect for her professor. All the professor's in fact.

"Now, due to your current positions within the school, we have given you boarding rooms on the ground floor. You can see the gardens from your windows, so I believe they will be suitable for you and your work, Lucius. You should see the blooms – Professor Longbottom has been quite beside himself with joy. And the library is just down the corridor, catering for your own needs, Hermione. Teaching will begin tomorrow, so I've prepared schedules for you both." Minerva handed thick rolls of parchment from the pocket of her robes and handed them over to the named person. "I understand that things will be different now, for the both of you, especially with your engagement. It's lovely to see you, and I'm very happy for you. I will see you at the Feast later, and leave you to get accustomed to your rooms."

Minerva turned to go towards the Great Hall, but stopped, smiling. "Welcome back."

* * *

The rooms they had been given were lovely. With the service of the House Elves, they had no proper kitchen, but a plush study and living area, with soft furnishings, simple desks and a roaring fireplace. Atop one of the desks, were coffee and teapots, bowls of sugar, coffee and teabags, and two mugs – one green, the other red. Rugs were scattered across the stone floor to brighten the room up, not that it needed it.

The gardens looked gorgeous from their living room window - there were so many flowers that Hermione could not name them all if she tried. Lucius had stared, wide eyed, but with a genuine smile on his face. She could just imagine him out there, sleeves rolled up, his hair unbound, dirt streaked across his face. She had sudden images of them both re-enacting scenes from _Lady Chatterly's Lover_ , and blushed. She headed off to inspect the bathroom.

The bathroom itself had all the basic modern amenities, including an upright shower unit, and a bath that you had to climb down into. Hermione sniffed the bottles of shampoo, and bubble baths, sneezing when the lavender concoction proved to be as strong as it looked.

The bedroom reminded Hermione of a romance novel - here she had more thoughts that made her cheeks so hot that an egg could be fried on them. They had a four poster bed, with silken black and white sheets. The dressers held their clothes, and was made from the same wood as the bed. They still had trunks like the students did though, but they were pushed to a dark corner of the room, holding dust, scraps of parchment, and broken buttons.

"Do you think we'll be happy here?" Hermione asked.

"As long as I'm with you, I'll always be happy." Lucius curled his ears around her, hugging her from behind, and dropping a kiss on her neck. "This is the start of a new life, for the both of us."


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for being so patient with me, and huge thanks to every single person who takes the time to favourite, alert and review. You all give me such joy. I've not been well these past few months so I do apologise for the length of time it's taken to upload. I haven't forgotten the story far from it, but real life can be bloody horrible! So I'm giving myself this kick up the bum to get more writing done before September comes and uni/placement begins again.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven – First Days**

The Welcome Feast was like stepping back in time for both Lucius and Hermione. The food was as splendid as always, and it seemed odd for Hermione to be sat at the teachers table, staring down at rows of young students. Older students, and even the first years, stared up at her and Lucius, whispering amongst themselves. Hermione was sure that they had all seen the many articles in the Prophet, or they had heard from parents about them.

The only person to not have given the couple a puzzled look or tiny comment was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Reki Kojima, a wizard with a deep fascination with Muggle video games, who wore thick white framed glasses, and carried a red sheathed katana at his left hip.

Lucius and Hermione's relationship was out in the open, and Hermione knew that she should keep her head held high, be a grown up about these things. She had tackled bigger things in her life than being stared at by children, after all. So she sat back in her chair, ate her fill, and when Minerva introduced them individually, she waved and smiled. This was the start of a whole new chapter in her life. She was content with what was happening, and as she dropped her gaze to her lap, she caught sight of the sparkling engagement ring. Yes, things would be good. She just knew it.

* * *

Hermione rose early the next morning, and dressed carefully, picking out a long ruffled black skirt, and a striped blouse. She laced her plain ankle boots and swept her hair up into what she hoped was a sophisticated bun, picking the stray strands of hair from her collar. Leaving her face bereft of make-up, she pulled a robe around her. Wand in her pocket, she stood before the bathroom mirror, breathing deeply. Yes, her nerves were starting to creep up on her now. It was all very well walking into the school on the first day of term, but now… Now, this was something she had dreamed of so long ago, and it was coming true and…

"You're going to be fine, Professor Granger."

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when Lucius placed his hands on her hips, and whispered in her ear.

"Don't do that!" She lightly slapped his hand, and spun in his arms. "Well, don't you look good, Assistant Professor Malfoy."

Dressed in smart black robes, he wore a white shirt underneath with a pair of pale pinstriped trousers. The trouser legs were tucked into a set of hardy black boots. His hair was tied sharply back with a sea green ribbon, and he wore fingerless dragonhide gloves. He carried a cotton satchel that had small patches sewn on to it with things that read like, "I feel good from my head tomatoes", and "I'm quite frond of plants". Noticing her looking, he held it up.

"A welcome gift from Professor Longbottom." He opened the bag to show her the little sections for seeds, plant cuttings, parchment, quills and ink bottles, and larger sections for tools. "Rather handy, isn't it?"

She nodded and checked her watch. "Breakfast, and then I need to go on and open up the library."

"Are you excited?" he asked, as he shouldered the bag again and ushered her towards the door. Already the smells of breakfast dishes wafted towards them, and from elsewhere in the castle, she was sure she could hear the students waking in their dormitories.

"Of course! What about you, though? Don't you have the first years this morning. Mixed abilities and Houses, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is. And believe me, I'm ready to meld the young minds in the ways of plant life. Although in retrospect, the chances are I'll probably be organising plant pots."

"Oh I don't know about that. Neville might let you play about with the dragon dung, if you're a good boy."

Lucius caught her hand, moving her towards the wall where he pressed against her. Hermione flushed. Checking the corridor was empty, he stole a kiss. "What about if I'm a rather bad boy?"

She nipped his lip so that the tiniest groan escaped from him. "Detention," she whispered.

* * *

After a tiny helping of toast and maybe a sip of apple juice, Hermione swept off towards the library. Taking one of the many shortcuts, the tiniest staircase led from her ground floor rooms and the Great Hall, onto the first floor. The library still remained one of her favourite places in the whole castle, with tens of thousands of books. It was an ambitious To Be Read list, and she was sure that no one in the whole of the castle's history had ever read all of them. She aimed to be that person - she had already made a sizeable dent in the books since her first year of studying. She tapped the handles of the door with her wand. One _Alohomora_ later, and the doors swung open. Hermione sniffed deeply. The smell of knowledge awaited her.

Everything was in its place, and barely anything had changed since she had first stepped foot here. Shelves and rows held so many titles of varying degrees of study level, and the study alcoves had been reupholstered with a nice simple patterned fabric. The table tops shone with polish, and in the middle were neat stacks of parchment, empty bottles of full of quills and spare bottles of ink.

Stepping towards the head librarians desk ( _my desk_ , she thought wildly), she realised that all her fears were ridiculous. She settled herself down to read the pack of information that Minerva had left there, although she knew all there was to know about her new workplace. She heard students passing, and she closed her eyes, a smile on her face.

Yes, this was most definitely better than being stuck in an office in the Ministry.

* * *

Lucius had drunk only black coffee at breakfast. He had pushed the cereal around the bowl until it resembled baby food. He could never have told Hermione about his nerves. It wasn't manly, although she had seen him shed a tear or two since they had been together.

"Hello Lucius. Are you ready?" Neville was stood to his right hand side, hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers. Neville had certainly grown up – he was a muscled young man now, not weedy in the slightest. He had scars on his hands, but a brightness to his eyes. As Lucius followed him down to the Greenhouses, he noticed the young professor seemed more confident than he had ever appeared before. He had a swagger about him and a smile that said, "I love my work."

A gaggle of first years stood outside the first greenhouse, bags high up on their bodies, robes fresh, nails already bitten with anxiousness. A young girl squeaked in fright at the sight of the tutors and ducked behind a squat curly haired boy.

"Good morning everyone, I am Professor Longbottom, and this is Assistant Professor Malfoy. We will be teaching you about plants, fruits, vegetables and all other manner of wildlife and botany that will be helpful to you during your studies. You'll often find that this subject crosses with others such as Potions, where you will start to recognise ingredients. Some of the plants you will work with will sometimes be very dangerous, so you must always pay attention to myself or our Assistant Prof here. Today, as an introduction, we're going to be looking inside Greenhouse One, seeing a few basic plants, before our real learning starts soon. None of the plants will cause you great harm, although I do advise you, please be careful."

Neville unlocked the door and stepped through, ushering the children to hurry along. Lucius followed, bringing up the rear, closing the door behind him. The smell of compost, of earth, of gorgeous flowers was enough to make his head spin. He made a mental note to get Hermione some of these cuttings for their chambers, as a congratulations on your first day present. Shaking his head, Lucius quickly set to work arranging students into pairs to sit at the trestle tables, whilst Neville conjured a blackboard and wrote a few pieces of information down for them to copy.

The squeaky young girl had taken her copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ from her bag, only for the spine to break. It flopped to the floor, and Lucius could see the tears welling as she reached for it. He summoned the book, and repaired it with a tap of his wand, noticing it wasn't as great a condition as some of the others. She had honey coloured hair and earthy brown eyes. He held the book out to her, and she bit her lip nervously.

"Thank you, sir," she finally squeaked.

"You're most welcome, Miss-"

"Clare, sir. I'm Stephanie Clare, Hufflepuff."

"You seem rather nervous, Miss Clare."

The girl held the book tightly to her chest and mumbled something. When she caught Lucius still looking at her, she repeated herself, slightly louder than before. "I thought I was a Muggle until my letter came. It's just that it's all so new, and this morning a boy said Hufflepuff was a reject house, and-"

"Miss Clare, Hufflepuffs are some of the most loyal people in the world. They are friendly, happy people. You will fit right in with them."

"But the school, sir-"

"Miss Clare, you are among classmates who are in the same boat as you. You should talk to them or others in your house about your fears – which by the way, are quite silly. Now, if I were you, I would put that nonsense out of your brain and concentrate on what Professor Longbottom wants to teach you."

The girl blushed deeply, and swung her gaze to the blackboard where Neville stood. Expecting him to say something about the way he handled the situation, Lucius shuffled on the spot, feeling like a child again.

Instead, Neville smiled and continued his lesson.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight – Strolling**

Hermione and Lucius enjoyed working together at Hogwarts. They ate together at all mealtimes and in the evenings when the library was closed, Lucius would escort her on a walk of the grounds, or they would simply fall into bed together, whispering sweet nothings, sharing tender kisses and gentle caresses. They would share secret suppers from the kitchens, or sometimes, Lucius would ask Hermione to check the papers he had been assigned to mark. Waking up and going to sleep beside each other was something they both enjoyed.

Monday and Thursday evenings, Hermione oversaw study sessions in the library, and she was taken back to her youth every time. The library on these two evenings closed an hour later, giving the students ample time to start on the weeks homework. Minerva was pleased that these sessions were going well, praising Hermione for the idea. On the study evenings, she strolled between the tables, remembering snippets of her time spent here. If she tried really hard, she could still see herself hunched under a pile of books, crowded around a table with Harry and Ron as they tried to figure out who the hell Nicholas Flamel really was.

She remembered the andrenaline rush as she finally figured out what the terrifying monster was in the monster in the Chamber of Secrets during her second year, only to be caught by the Basilisk's penetrative yellow stare as she approached a Prefect – and Percy Weasley's girlfriend at the time.

She could still feel the strain of being in her third year she studied her socks off using the Time Turner, and all the while, trying to build a case for Hagrid in defence of Buckbeak the Hippogriff. And not to mention finding out that Remus Lupin, her aged if quite handsome Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was a werewolf. All the while terrified of the Dementors, and of the escape from Azkaban of Sirius Black!

She did not want to be thirteen again.

She remembered how her knees shook as Quidditch star and Triwizard chamption Viktor Krum approached her in the Ancient Runes section, asking her to be his date for the Yule Ball, where she felt a million dollars, only for the bubble to burst at the end of the evening. She still couldn't walk down that row without blushing - he had been a very good kisser, although not as good as Lucius.

Her fifth year, she had studied defensive spells in the library books – books she would later insist that Harry read. Whilst Dumbledore's Army was in full force, she had been studying for her OWLS, taking the time to sit with Harry, Ron and Ginny, quizzing each other over exam questions. She was reminded of how she would snatch the books from their hands to check to see if she had one hundred percent of the answer right, and watch their faces droop in disbelief.

That was in a complete comparison to her sixth year, which was spent hidden away from Ron and Lavender Brown, until the sodding break up in the Hospital Wing.

Never mind what it was like in her seventh year, the year she went on the run with Harry and Ron to search for Voldemort's Horcruxes, and the Battle when they finally returned to the school...

The last week of September, Hermione closed up the library as usual, ushering the students out of the various nooks and crannies that the room held. As she finished charming the locks, she heard Lucius approaching her. She looked up as she held out a beautiful white rose, a smile on his face – a face she noticed, that still had streaks of mud.

"Evening petal," he said, brushing tiny kisses along her cheekbone.

"Evening yourself." She sniffed the rose, sighing at its heady scent. Being engaged to a Herbologist certainly had its advantages - she didn't lack for flowers ever now. "How was your afternoon?"

"Fifth years are already panicking about their OWLS. It's a nightmare! Bruce Stein managed to levitate himself to the rafters of Greenhouse Three and couldn't get down – he clung to them saying that if the examiners didn't find him there, he wouldn't have to do the exams. Bloody ridiculous, especially for a Ravenclaw. And as for Catherine Millar in Gryffindor, she's come down with a bad case of nerves – she's got tiny red spots across her face and managed to breathe fire. Set Neville's sleeve on fire, so he docked her points."

Hermione stuffed a fist in her mouth to stop her from laughing.

"Seriously, it's been hell." He took her hand as they headed towards the grounds for another one of their evening stroll's. Sometimes they settled themselves by the Black Lake and watched the giant squid propel itself around, its tentacles waving lazily in the evening air. "What about you? Found anyone snogging in the stacks yet?"

"I wish I'd never told you that." She frowned at him as Lucius waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh come on, I'm only teasing you. You do it to me all the time."

"Not all the time," she said, as they headed out of the main doors and down the stairs into the grounds. The pair lapsed into silence as they walked through the grounds, the dew already splattering their boots. They circled the greenhouses, watching as owls swooped above them on hunts and cats chased each, their yowls a telltale sign that some were in season.

"Sounds like someone's having fun," Lucius said, nudging Hermione's arm.

"Don't they always?" She had distinctly heard voices heading back towards the castle. Whoever it was, if they were caught they would be in serious trouble and sent straight back to their dormitories. Maybe even House Points would be lost. They better hurry before her or Lucius caught sight of them.

"You are happy here with me, aren't you?" Lucius asked unexpectedly.

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Of course I am. Why would you think that I wasn't?"

"I want you to be happy, and I know we don't get a great deal of time together now with both of us working like mad, but-"

Hermione silenced him with a kiss. "I don't know where you've got this silly idea from, or where you're going with it, but you can put it out of your mind right now, okay?"

"I heard Professor Kojima in the staff room earlier when Neville and I were marking homework. Apparently some silly students have been spreading rumours about us and-"

"Rumours, Lucius. Rumours. That's all they are, whatever they are saying. And anyway, they're probably jealous that I'm kissing and snuggling a silver fox such as you."

He drew her closer to him, dropping his mouth to her neck, kissing the skin lightly. "I'm sorry, petal, I'm acting like a complete idiot. I don't know what's got into me just lately."

"You have a level O in idiocy, Assistant Professor Malfoy. I'm wearing your ring, aren't I? I accepted the most romance proposal ever, because I want to be with you, and have a future with you."

"And it really doesn't bother you that I'm an ex-Death Eater with a troubled son?"

"Doesn't it bother you that I once dated a Weasley, a Quidditch star and on top of that, I'm a Mudblood to boot?"

"Don't call yourself that!"

"Then you should stop pulling yourself down. Your past makes you, you. I love you, Dark Marks and all. I know who you are, what you've done, and I haven't run away screaming, have I? If it makes you feel better, I'll speak to Professor Kojima and put him straight. I've been meaning to talk to him anyway – Flourish and Blotts are sending us more copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._ "

"Petal, I feel like I've been a bit of an idiot."

"A bit of?" Hermione laughed and nipped his bottom lip sharply with her teeth, so that he let out a groan. He pulled her tight against him, as he manoeuvred them towards the greenhouses. Yes, this would certainly distract her wizard from his silly thoughts.

"Miss Granger, you will feel more than a bit of me, if you're not careful," he growled low in his throat. Hermione nipped him again, relishing in the feel of him pressed against her.

"Professor, you'll find," she whispered as the door opened, permitting them access to greenhouse one.

"Oh I'm not there yet, but I can certainly dole out punishment, petal." Lucius waved his wand, locking and sealing the door behind them. Stepping towards Hermione, he crushed her lips to his, his hands already feeling their way under and up her long skirts to her inner thighs.

Outside of the greenhouses, the night sky turned from dusky pink and orange to the blackest night. The stars twinkled brightly, as the moon shone through the skylight, illuminating the couple who had become one.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine – Unexpected Guest**

 _31 October, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies_

"Lucius, honestly, you're worrying about nothing. Now, let me get back to work. The Feast is tonight-"

"Everything is covered, Minerva has told us this repeatedly. Your health is more important than dusting old books, chasing people for fines, and checking over study papers. I'm sure we will be back for the Feast, so don't panic."

"Why couldn't I just ask Poppy to check me over in the Hospital Wing?"

"Because I said so. Her duty is to the students. Our future vows will include taking care of you in sickness and health-"

"Future vows, Lucius. Future." Hermione glared up at him beneath her mass of bushy hair. She had not been well during the night. In fact she had tossed and turned until the early hours. The morning of Halloween was even worse. She had swung her legs out of bed, taken two steps towards the bathroom and collapsed, falling unconscious. Lucius wasted no time in scooping her up, racing to Minerva's office and insisting he use the fireplace to Floo her to do a hospital.

She had not been well, not at all. His future wife was looking pale each morning, and her portion sizes were becoming smaller and smaller. Whenever he met her after the library closed, she looked tired and worn out. Lucius insisted on no more long walks, instead tucking her up amongst blankets, a roaring fire in the hearth, and mugs of warm tea, especially this past week or so.

Now, she was laid on a bed in St Mungo's, glaring at him, arms folded across her chest. She was still wearing her pyjamas – a floral patterned cotton set. Lucius moved a pale green blanket across her bare feet, tucking them around her.

"Better?"

"I'll be better if I can just go back to Hogwarts."

Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but a male Healer bustled through the doors. He was a tall man, dark skinned, with bright eyes. Lucius was immediately reminded of Kingsley Shacklebolt, but when the Healer spoke, the resemblance stopped there. He had an almost whimsical voice, similar to that of Neville's wife, Luna, the editor of _The Quibbler_.

"Now Miss Granger, we've studied your blood and urine tests. I've just got a few questions to ask you, if that's alright with you?"

"Yes that's fine, but I can assure you that I've probably got a touch of flu. Lucius is just worrying for no reason." She glared at him again, and scooped her hair into a ponytail, tying it with the red ribbon from around her wrist.

"Would you like Mr Malfoy to remain in the room?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Hermione raised her eyebrow, and Lucius felt something fall into his stomach. The Healer didn't want him around – could he be giving her some very bad news? Could she be... dying?

"So Miss Granger, have you been more tired than usual?"

"Well, I suppose so, but I started a new job in September, so it could just be that." Lucius noticed that she had been sleeping more heavily in the evenings and struggling to wake in the mornings – he had simply put it down to those evenings walks after work.

"And have you any backache at all?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

The Healer made a mark on the clipboard. Lucius tried to peer at it, but couldn't make any sense of the shorthand scribbles. The Healer's handwriting was more like the scratches of a Niffler than anything human! "Any tenderness of the breasts at all?"

Hermione and Lucius both flushed and nodded. She had stopped him suckling on her nipples for a week or so now when they had sex, insisting that he be more careful with her. Hermione cleared her throat. "If I'm being honest, sir, Lucius and I have a good, healthy, sex life. Could the tenderness be anything to do with that?"

The Healer ignored her question, instead firing another at her. "Any irregular bleeding at all?"

"I-" Hermione stopped what she was about to say, her face growing as pale as a piece of parchment. "No, no, it can't be-"

"What?" Lucius asked, stepping closer to the bed. His heart was in his mouth, his hands shook, and sweat trickled unpleasantly down his spine. "Hermione, petal, are you alright?"

Her lips trembled. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. It was if someone had put a Silencing Charm on her, and he didn't like that whatsoever. No, not at all.

"Hermione?"

"I'm late," she finally whispered.

"Late? Hermione, now is not the time to worry about work and the Feast and-" Lucius stopped, resisting the urge to slap himself. He reached for her hand and gripped it tightly.

The Healer smiled brightly, bringing the clipboard to his chest. "Forgive me for my casualness, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger, but has the Knut finally dropped?"

"Is it possible?" Hermione whispered, her eyes bright as she sought answers from the Healer.

He nodded. "May I be the first to offer you my hearty congratulations?" The Healer stepped forward and shook both of their hands. Lucius was staring at his future bride, as if seeing her again for the first time. "I'm going to give you five minutes alone to talk, and I'll come back with a Mediwitch, if that's okay? We can discuss your options then."

"Sure, whatever," Lucius said flippantly, his eyes still focused on Hermione.

Only when the door to the room was closed, did Lucius perch on the side of the bed. His hand slowly drifted to Hermione's stomach, and hers rested on top of his. Her fingers were trembling as she tried to squeeze his in reassurance.

"Is this really happening to us?" she asked in a low voice.

"I think it is, petal," he said, and leant forward, kissing her forehead.

"I'm going to be someone's mother…"

"We're going to have a baby." Lucius tasted the word on his tongue. It was strange, something he hadn't said in many, many years. "A baby. We're going to have a baby."

Hermione was silent for a moment, before she said, "I thought we were careful with the contraceptive potions."

"Obviously not." He couldn't help but smile. His future wife was pregnant with his child.

"Are you… happy?"

"Hermione, petal, I couldn't be happier." He kissed her lips this time, letting his fingers lightly drift back and forth across her stomach. "Are you?"

"I'm going to be a mother," she said softly. She raised her eyes to his, and he could see tears shining in them. "I'm going to be a wife and a mother." A grin spread out on her face, as the tears started to fall with happiness.

Lucius pulled her closer to him, hugging her tightly. "We're going to have a family. A proper family."

"I'm a mother, a step-mother, and wife… I never thought this would ever happen when I saw you for the first time in Diagon Alley."

"I was a different man then. Now everything I do, want to do, and will ever do, is for you and our child."

"Our child… Say it again," Hermione said, beaming up at him.

"Our child," he said, pressing a kiss to her lips, his heart as light as could be. "Happy Halloween, petal."

"The happiest of Halloween's, my silver fox."

"And what about our little cub? No cute coloured nickname for him?"

"Lucius Malfoy, our daughter is not going to be nicknamed cub!"

"Whether it's a boy or a girl, it will be ours. And it will be loved." He dropped his gaze to her stomach, massaging it softly. "You hear me, little cub, you are already loved more than you know."

"Really? Cub?" Hermione sighed.

Lucius heard the door open and the clack of shoes as the Healer and Mediwitch approached them, but it didn't matter that the moment was now ruined. Nothing could spoil this day. Nothing at all.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty – Prison Break**

Draco Malfoy had never been so thankful in all of his life. This greatly surpassed the events that led to the Battle of Hogwarts when the Dark Lord had kept him close by, setting up home in the Malfoy family home, his dirty great snake slithering around looking for his next meal. Now… He was free. He imagined this was how Sirius Black, aunt Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters had felt when their feet hit dry land and the veils of darkness lifted.

He pulled the old cloak tightly around him, as Peter tried to coax a more generous heat from the small fire, the chunks of stolen bread slowly beginning to toast by the embers. Once their restraints had been broken in Azkaban, they had Apparated into the mountains that surrounded Hogsmeade. They had swiped a change of clothes from a cramped washing line, swapping the dirty rags over in a cobbled alleyway, a short distance from the cottage. When they were suitably attired, and food had been found, the pair focused on the next step of the plan by heading straight for a cave. It had been difficult to climb up to, and both men had stitches in their sides as they climbed. Their Azkaban footwear was little protection as they manoeuvred between jagged points and over the edge.

Inside the cave, they had found old bones of varying sizes, chunks of grey hair (or was it fur?), along with ragged, aged newspapers. Silvery cobwebs and small spiders littered the roof of the cave, giving the location an almost sinister feel. It was almost as if someone had been using this place as a base camp and no longer had need of it. Maybe that person had been on the run too?

It had been way too easy to coax a guard to come into the cell. Draco had lain prone on the floor, eyes closed, spit around his mouth as Peter rattled the bars and screamed for help. When the guard had entered the room and started to check his vital signs, Draco had swung his fist at the right moment. There was a crunch as the fist met the guard's temple repeatedly and blood splattered.

Peter had taken the wand from the bleeding man, and they had hurried down the corridor. Other inmates called out to them, trying to get their attention, to set them free, but the two men were fixed on their own goals.

"I don't know why no one had the guts to try this before," Draco murmured as they headed down a set of steep stairs. "They should never have gotten rid of the Dementors, after all!"

Peter pulled him onto the next level, where more people called for help. It was at the end of the corridor that they ran head first into an Auror, who only just managed to recover himself from the shock of seeing them. The two inmates ducked the jink at the same time. Draco's old Seeker reflexes kicked into action and he swung his leg out as the guard tried to send a Stunner in their direction. The Auror was sent down the stairs and into unconsciousness.

Snatching the wand from his hand, Draco had never felt more of a man.

"Keep going, we need to be in the entry way." Peter's shoes slapped the staircase, and he kicked the Auror as he passed, aiming for the ribcage.

Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, it seemed a much easier run than they had anticipated. Clearly the Halloween holiday had changed everyone's attitudes to the security of highly dangerous prisoners. Aurors may be handy with their wands, but take them away, shove a fist or foot in their direction, and they were just like Muggles.

Useless and incompetent.

The entry hall was the real challenge, and both Draco and Peter realised this. Three young Aurors patrolled the area in a circular pattern, whilst a watch wizard sat behind a desk in a cramped, office that reminded Draco of a broom cupboard.

"The sooner these cuffs are off the better. I can almost taste the power," Peter murmured beside Draco. He elbowed Draco to move to the left hand side of the area, whilst he took the right. Keeping to the shadows as much as it was possible, Draco breathed low, flattening himself to the wall. Years of practice as a child moving around Malfoy Manor at Christmas time and his birthday was paying off.

Looking across the entry hall, Draco could just see Peter's eyes glint in the extremely low lights. He made a motion with his hand, and with that the pair flew into action. Draco's heart pounded as he raced to the nearest gentleman. The Auror cried out in shock as Draco planted a foot high on the man's thigh, spinning himself around, arms tight around the neck. He squeezed tightly as the pair crashed to the floor.

The Auror was choking, but Draco didn't care. Someone else's neck would be under his hands soon enough.

Using the Auror's body as a shield, he approached the central guard who was still shooting spells at the two men. Peter ducked and weaved like some kind of animal, dodging the Stunner's, jinxes and hexes, until finally, he clamped a hand around the man's wrist, incapacitating him with a few well timed movements. Draco snapped the wand before the wizard, and as a final goodbye gesture to this hellhole, thrust the two broken pieces into the shocked man's eyes.

"Nice moves, D."

"D?" Draco let the man fall to the ground and stepped over the bodies, staring at his comrade with disgust.

"You really are a force to be reckoned with, aren't you?"

"We're close. So close. And then nothing's going to stop me hurting that bitch, until she's begging for death."

"Just don't hog her. I want some fun myself." On the last word, Peter flung the office door open so hard that it bounced off a side desk in the interior. The watch wizard jumped in fear underneath the desk where he was hidden. There was no hiding the wet patch on his trousers, or the tears that ran down his face. Snot dribbled out of his nose.

"Please," the watch wizard moaned. He was pale, thin, barely out of school.

Draco grinned. "You going to unlock these cuffs, or not?"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter Thirty-One – The Daily Prophet**

1 November dawned bright and breezy, although for Lucius it was also met by the sounds of tapping against the bedroom window. He tried to pull the quilt over his head, but Hermione had tossed it aside last night. Her temperature had spiked last night after the Halloween Feast – too much excitement for many, and Lucius agreed with the other professors. They had told Minerva of the good news when they returned that afternoon. Minerva had been thrilled and rubbed Hermione's stomach, although at six weeks there was no bump yet.

Minerva also thought it best to let the rest of the staff know. As they entered the Great Hall that evening, many professors greeted them with warm congratulations, and even Kojima had presented Hermione with a singing pumpkin, to keep with the spirit of the season. After a while, the singing wound down so it only made squeaks. It had given Hermione a headache, and annoyed many other members of staff.

Lucius had sent it down to the kitchens to be butchered by the Hogwarts House Elves in the end.

The tapping continued and had become more frenzied. Pulling herself from the bed, Hermione padded over to the heavy curtains, throwing them aside. Owls of varying shapes, sizes and colours fluttered outside, each clutching parchment and tightly rolled scrolls – she even recognised a post owl or two.

"Lucius, have you told anyone else about the baby?" she asked nervously, holding a hand to her mouth to suppress a yawn.

"No, but I was thinking about what we said last night. About going to visit Draco in the holidays?"

"He does have a right to know that he's going to be an older brother. Although, if you're suggesting that I write to Narcissa, you have another thing coming." Hermione threw a plump cushion at Lucius' head, sending his silvery hair haywire.

"I know I got a lot of things wrong with Draco, but maybe he'll see this as a way to keep on the straight and narrow while he's in there. He always wanted to be a brother, you know?" Lucius let his bare feet touch the floor and drew them back onto the bed immediately. "This school really needs to invest in some underfloor heating or something."

Hermione flung the window open, inviting the owls into the bedroom. Many of them soared to the bed, dropping their wares in front of Lucius before circling the room once, and soaring back out. A few headed towards the Owlery for rest and a drink. When the last owl had flown out of the room, Hermione shut the window, turning to Lucius.

"Lucius? What's wrong?"

Lucius couldn't speak. He dropped the newspaper he had just unrolled onto the floor, his hands shaking.

"Lucius?"

"Read it," he whispered.

"Is it about our baby?" she asked slowly. "Has someone found out about us already?"

Lucius couldn't speak. He flopped back onto the bed, drawing himself into the foetal position, wishing he could sleep for a thousand years.

* * *

 _BREAKING OUT ISN'T HARD TO DO!_

 _By Paul Osbourne, News Correspondent_

 _Since Kingsley Shacklebolt was appointed Minister for Magic after the fall of Lord Voldemort, also known as You-Know-Who, and He Who Must Not Be Named, there has been some radical changes as to how the wizarding world is being run in Britain. The controversial removal of the Dementors surrounding the prison Azkaban was a movement that was unexpected. Many were in support of the removal, especially those who have felt its effects. Mary Cattermole, of Evesham, backed Minister Shacklebolt's decision, stating that during the hostile takeover, she was subjected to the creatures terror._

 _"It was like being in hell," Mary stated in an interview several years ago. "They make you think about the worst things you've ever thought about or experienced. To live through something once, was bad enough. A second time around, is torture. Not even people in prison should have to feel that terror. Not anymore."_

 _Crime rates in wizarding Britain have decreased since Minister Shacklebolt has taken over the role, with many believing that this is linked to the appointment of Auror, Harry Potter, the victor of those terrible battles with Lord Voldemort. After all, who wants to be caught by the legend himself? Not this reporter for one!_

 _Two men who may be finding themselves at_ _the end of Auror Potter's wand though, are escaped prisoners of Azkaban, Draco Malfoy and Peter Matthew, both previous students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

 _It appears the men had shared a cell in the prison, and it is believed that here they planned their escape. Reports from inside Azkaban state that Malfoy had been under pressure from inside the prison, and Auror's speculate he had not taken well to the news of his father's engagement to Hermione Granger, both of who are now based at Hogwarts. Reports are still coming in on how the escape occurred, but it is believed the two men overpowered the Auror's inside the prison with brute force and strength the likes of which haven't been seen before._

 _The pair left through the front doors, leaving Jeremy Valentine, a watch wizard hailing from London, in a state of distress. Mr Valentine is currently seeking medical attention from mediwitches at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies._

 _One fatality occurred during the break out, although Auror's have not been able to confirm the identity at this stage._

* * *

Staring up from the newspaper were the hollow faces of two young men. Hermione recognised both of them – how could she not? Peter Matthew had been a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! Her heart beat fast knowing that her step-son-to-be had broken out of prison.

She had read the files in depth when she had been assigned the case at the Ministry. She had seen the similarities in Draco's victims – they were all the same age, all had the same build, all were brunettes, and all had been killed in the same way.

When she scoured the Muggles newspapers and the Internet she found new information that the Prophet or the courts had not seen. Draco had even been nicknamed the Oxfordshire Ripper.

All seven of the women were highly intelligent. They had all received amazing grades from universities, or held high powered jobs, or roles that demanded smarts and concentration...

One woman had a First from university, was studying for another degree, whilst working in a garden centre.

Another worked in the dangerous reptile department of a zoo, whilst the third was a lawyer.

The fourth and fifth victims were teachers in secondary schools, whilst the sixth was a chef in a busy, high class, boutique hotel.

The final victim worked for her local government.

All of this scared Hermione. She had spent evenings comparing the notes she had made alongside the files, and she was sure it wasn't just a coincidence that the women resembled her in some way or another.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty-Two – Waiting Game**

November was shaping up to be a very cold month, preparing the residents of Hogsmeade for December and the festive season. The cave that Draco and Peter continued to use as a hide-out helped to shield them from the worst of the weather, but journeying up to it each time they left became more and more precarious. Wind tore at their clothes, rain dampened their spirits, stopping them from going out as often as they liked, and dustings of frost caused more slips and trips than enough. The blisters on Draco's feet were starting to heal, but sadly, the gash on his calf that came from losing his footing opened every so often. Namely, if he stretched out, or hobbled out of the cave to find a tree.

Whilst The Daily Prophet still trumpeted the news of their escape, the pair were still able to get around Hogsmeade with little difficulty. Disillusionment charms came in very handy, as did the darkness that rolled in during the afternoons. As soon as it got dark outside, the pair would don their cloaks, and slip through the rocks and gaps, finally coming out and into the village. Huddled together for warmth, walking the cobbled streets, hoods drawn up over their heads, they appeared like any member of the community, although they still hadn't risked sneaking into shops. They lived on what they could steal or hunt, occasionally picking the pockets of the older generation to try and lessen their difficulties.

Eventually a cold snap spurned the decision to continue with their plans. Stuck in the cave with only each other for company, they prepared their plan, discussed the best methods of attack, and what would happen when they finally had the object of their goal.

The, they just had to wait for the perfect moment.

* * *

"They really do feel real," Peter said, marvelling at the handy transfiguration spell that Draco had performed. A simple button on their cloaks had become the Hogwarts crest, emblazoned on the right breast. Darkening their hair and creating a few more spots with dirt, they appeared like any other Hogwarts student – neither wanted to risk a spell that could leave them more damaged. At least this way, during the big reveal, Granger would still recognise them.

As would Draco's father.

The journey into the village took little time at all - they knew the best ways by now, and they had soon blended into the crowd of students that were milling around the village. How lucky they were that these visits were still allowed. Draco recalled during the takeover of Hogwarts that the trips were banned, and any student found out of bounds would be punished severely. Now... Now, it was like when he and Peter were still at school. He watched as some of the older children headed into the Three Broomsticks for a drink, while several others staggered out of Honeydukes with chocolate smeared around their lips. The younger generation scampered towards the joke shop, whereas those who were bored of the visits but still enjoyed the freedom, simply walked, lost in conversation and thought.

"Where is he?" Peter muttered, stamping his feet to ward off the chill.

"I don't know. I would have thought they would have sent at least one teacher to keep an eye on them in this weather."

"McGonagall isn't nearly as much as a soft touch as old Dumbledore," Peter replied, his eyes sliding over the young witches and wizards. "She can be a right dragon when she wants to be."

"Plan B it is then," Draco murmured, pushing through the crowds and onto the road back towards the school. No one gave them a second glance as they bent against the winds, hands tight against the stolen wands. Draco had been thoroughly delighted when both wands responded to their new owners, especially the spells that he needed for the next step. It was imperative that the spell worked - he would get one chance, and one chance only.

The black iron wrought gates leading up to the school loomed before them, and Draco was struck with how familiar the situation really was. He remembered how he had felt walking along this road, knowing that Rosmerta was going to hand over that cursed necklace, and how things would have been over, when he was in his sixth year. Things hadn't worked out well – and she had been there then too. Bloody Granger with a silly woollen hat crammed over her bushy brown hair.

Knowing they would no longer be able to enter the grounds, they settled themselves on a stone wall close by. Peter suggested that they pass the time with a game of I-Spy, which involved Peter picking something that he could see, and Draco had to guess the object, with only the first letter as a hint. They could then take it in turns, but only if the other player guessed correctly. Draco wouldn't have admitted it, but he rather enjoyed the game, once he had gotten the hang of it. Together, they had named all sorts – snow, rubble, castle, smoke, owl, cat, broomstick, and more.

"I-Spy, with my little eye, something beginning with F," Draco said.

"F? Erm, flowers?"

"No."

"Fungus? Look, there's mushrooms growing out of that bit of gate post – they could have got Hagrid to tidy the bloody place up, couldn't they?"

"It isn't fungus."

"Flesh-Eating slug? Bet there's a few of them up at the castle!" Peter chuckled so much that he nearly fell off the wall.

"Give up?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it then?"

Draco pointed with his wand at a silvery haired figure, wrapped in a thick robe that was walking towards the gates. The figure stomped in thick boots, hands buried deep within the pockets of the robe. He was striding with purpose towards the gates and hadn't even seen the two figures hunched on the wall.

"Father," Draco said, with a smile. He lifted the wand with determination. "Imperio."


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter Thirty-Three – Exit Hogwarts**

When Hermione had entered the library that morning, she was thankful that the House Elves had decided to light the fires that were built into the walls. The ceiling in the great hall that morning had been dark and clouded, with the ever hanging threat of snow, something that did not excite any of the Professors. She ate her usual porridge and berries, and sipped her tea – she had found a new love of matcha tea, finding that the green liquid eased her morning nausea – she had sent Kojima a thank you note for the suggestion. Poppy Pomfrey had scowled at the mans kind gesture, until the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher presented her with a large bunch of flowers. She had softened to him instantly.

As she sorted slips of parchment, piles of books on her desk, and working out her mental to do list for the day, Hermione found herself lost in personal thoughts once more. She had memories of being huddled in here with stacks of revision notes near the Christmas holidays, waiting until the fires burned slowly into life. As soon as they did, she would scoop all her belongings and head for a desk closest to the hearth. She would kick her shoes off, stretch in her seat, and let the magic of learning whisk her away, only being disturbed when Harry or Ron insisted she come have something to eat.

Shaking her head, she turned back to her desk. She cast various detection spells on the parchment, laughing under her breath. Forgery, really? The only people she had ever known with good forgery skills were Fred and George, the Weasley twins. The messy attempts that lay before her made her chuckle under her breath, especially when she noticed the same signature on three slips.

"Excuse me, Professor Granger?"

Hermione looked up from the notes to see a tall, willowy young lady. She wore a Prefect badge on her chest, and her hair was coiled onto the top of her head in a neat bun. She clutched a slip of parchment in her left hand.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for-" she dropped her gaze to the parchment once again, " _Futures Great and Small: The Life and Times of British Seers_ by Imelda Present."

Hermione resisted sniggering. She knew she had to remain professional at all times, but when people came to her looking for books on Divination, she had to control herself. She still considered the whole thing a rather woolly subject, even after knowing that real prophecies existed. Pulling herself together, Hermione directed the young lady to the correct section. The girl moved off, her hair bun bobbing as she walked.

Moments later the girl returned, the rather heavy looking book tucked under her arm.

"Thanks for your help, Professor," the girl said, handing the text over. "I looked everywhere yesterday!"

Hermione used the magical scanning rod, so similar to the dark artefact security rods that Argus Filch had insisted on using during their sixth year. The library scanner beeped and chanted: "Present, I. _Futures Great and Small._ On loan to Elle Cross, fifth year, Ravenclaw, for one week." The scanner then spat out a receipt with all the information pasted on it.

Elle Cross slipped the receipt into the dust jacket of the book, and tucked it under her arm. She smiled, said her thanks once more, and turned to leave the library. She stopped, spun on her heel, grinned at Hermione, and hurried out with her head down. Hermione instantly saw why.

Lucius was striding towards her, a lazy smile on his face.

"Looking for a book today, Assistant Professor?" Hermione asked, rising from the comfortable desk chair. She leant over the desk, and kissed his cheek lightly.

"Come for a walk with me," he said, no preamble.

"You must be joking? It's way too cold to go tramping through the grounds." She cast her gaze to the warm fires where a knot of Slytherin first years were doing their Transfiguration homework.

"I'll keep you warm." Lucius winked, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter in excitement.

"Lucius, there are children around. I think they'd notice us sneaking off to have-"

"So I cannot have an afternoon stroll with my gorgeous witch to be?" He pouted childishly, and Hermione laughed.

"Of course you can-"

"Well then!" Lucius reached across the desk for her, but Hermione leant away from him.

"I still have work to do!"

"Ask the Elves to oversee everything, or a ghost or something. Please, petal, just walk with me. We won't be long." His eyes seemed to grow larger – something her father had called 'puppy dog eyes'. Hermione could take his pleading no longer, and sighing, placed her hand in his outstretched one.

"If I get a cold, it's all your fault."

"The fresh air will do you good," Lucius said, the lazy smile back.

Hermione summoned an Elf to keep control of the library, instructing how to perform loans and if they were unsure of a books location, to use their magic to pull it directly from the shelf. The Elf nodded continuously at the comments, and Hermione was worried she had insulted it. These Elves clearly knew Hogwarts better than she ever did, or would for that matter.

Lucius didn't try and engage her in conversation when they left the library, although a few wandering students looked at them in awe. In fact, Lucius seemed to be pulling her towards the grounds with an almost feverish excitement.

"Calm down, I'll hurt my ankle if you're not careful." Hermione had almost slipped on the stairs leading down onto the grassy verges. "What's so important that we go for a walk anyway? I can get fresh air anytime I want."

Lucius didn't reply, just tucked her arm tighter to him, and carried on walking towards the gates that led out onto the Hogsmeade road. Hermione could see a couple of students had already gathered at the gates, waiting to return to the castle. She stopped where she was, frowning. When did students ever willingly leave Hogsmeade early?

"Lucius, what's going on?"

Lucius didn't reply, although his eyes couldn't stay focused on one spot. He seemed to be fighting an internal struggle the closer he moved to the gates, and she hated seeing him like this. It was almost as if he had been –

"Lucius!" she called out as he raised his wand, and removed the locks and wards on the castle gates. He didn't seem to hear her as he took two steps off the grounds. Picking up her trailing and now damp robes, she followed him, her footsteps light across the crisp grounds. "Lucius!"

She stepped over the gate line, and reached for the man she would marry, the man who was the father to her child, but white light surrounded her. She felt hands clamp down hard on her wrists. She could see Lucius' face fall and contort with anger, his eyes bulging from his skull in shock and fright.

"Hermione!" Lucius yelled, raising his wand, but whatever he planned to do, whatever had truly happened to him, was too late. She felt the familiar pull of Apparition, and her world went dark.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter Thirty-Four – Alone at Last**

When Hermione's eyes fluttered open, she found she was in an all too familiar room. She clutched her head as she tried to sit up, taking in the surroundings.

"What's going on?" she murmured. Hermione had found herself sprawled on the hard wooden dining table that belonged in Malfoy Manor. She was reminded of many delicious dinners here with Lucius, along with other wonderful activities that made use of the mouth…

She was alone in the room, the chandelier glinting above her head. Long narrow candles burned brightly where they had been placed on the ornamental cabinets. In the centre of all the candles, was a Pensieve where silver memories swirled inside, tempting Hermione to look inside. She shook herself, and refused to do. The only times she had ever used the memory holder was with Lucius, and that was when they wanted to revisit more pleasant and pleasurable memories.

Place settings were still on the table, and all the chairs were tucked in to it. Whilst Hermione and Lucius had not been in the Manor for a few months, the room did not smell dusty, thinking of how the House Elves would have kept it in pristine condition.

"I'm… home?" This didn't make sense. It was almost like she had been laid out like some kind of feast.

Hermione patted her clothes down. The black robe with the silver trim that she wore around Hogwarts had been removed, as had her suitable ankle boots. Her wand was missing, but apart from that she had not been tampered with. Her clothes remained perfectly in place, apart from the holes in the knees of her tights. She must have fallen or something.

"Lucius?" she called, sliding off the table. Her feet were cold against the wooden floor, her tights not helping matters, as she tried to keep upright. Maybe the Elves had recently polished in here. "Batsy?"

Neither her wizard, nor the House Elf came to the sound of her voice. She tried to sort through her memories of what had happened to her. She vaguely recalled the Hogwarts students outside the gates as she walked in the grounds, and the glazed look in Lucius' eyes. In fact, his entire behaviour had been off.

This was strange. Too strange.

Hermione padded across the floor towards the dining room door, where she stopped, fingers resting on the ornate handle. She could hear low voices out in the hallway. Low, angry, voices.

"… and need I remind you, Peter, that this still remains my home. I will do what I like, when I want."

The first voice was familiar, although she hadn't heard it in a very long time.

"And don't you think this will be the first place he looks? He might be your father, but he's not that bloody stupid."

The second voice belonged to a man that Hermione vaguely recognised. She was sure that he had been a Gryffindor, but with only the name Peter to go on, she couldn't recall who he exactly was.

"No, you're right. He's even stupider!"

Hermione wished she could crack the door open, but she knew how the hinges creaked. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. Cautiously, she knelt by the keyhole and peered through. It was thin, and dark, obscuring most of her view, but when the second voice moved into her line of vision, with outstretched hands, she recognised him instantly. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine Peter Matthew to be working with –

Yes, there he was. She stomach clenched tightly, and bile rose in her throat. Her temples throbbed as she took in the sight of Draco Malfoy, resplendent in a dark velvet set of dress robes. His skin gleamed, his hair was slicked back, a glass of red wine in one hand, an unfamiliar wand in the other.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione whispered, clamping a hand over her mouth in case either heard her.

Peter moved slowly towards Draco. "Look, I can get us out of here. I can get us down to Cornwall – nanna and grandad have been put in a retirement home, so the house is all shut up. No one would think to come there and find us. Everything will work out better for us, don't you understand that? We can keep her in the basement, draw out our vengeance for much longer than I'm sure whatever it is you've got planned in your twisted platinum head. "

"You would dare speak to me like that? In my own house? May I remind you that I am the Master of this house and-"

"And what? Your father will hear about this?" Peter sneered, and from the other side of the door, Hermione bit down on her finger to stop the snigger escaping.

"Do not forget your place, Mudblood Matthew. There's a reason your parole was denied, and it's because you are just as fucked up as me!"

"Do not call me-"

Whatever Peter had been about to protest, Hermione did not find out. In fact, she found that she could not move as she watched the drama and horror unfold before her.

Draco slashed his wand forward, yelling, "Avada Kedavra." Green light shot from the tip of the wand, striking Peter straight in the chest. Peter's body jerked forwards once when the curse hit, and the next second, he crumpled on the floor of the hallway. Draco stepped towards the figure, and upturned his glass of wine all over Peter's fallen body, red liquid soaking through the clothing.

"You have outstayed your welcome, Peter Matthew." Draco jerked his gaze towards the door, moving towards it, his footsteps echoing in the quiet.

Hermione's heart was in her chest as she scattered backwards as fast as she could, her back slamming into the chair that had been deemed as hers. She clutched at the wood, several nails breaking as she sought purchase. The handle jerked, a spell was whispered, and there he stood in the doorway.

"Alone at last," Draco Malfoy said, his voice dripping with venom. He placed his empty wine glass on the cabinet, neglecting to use a coaster. "Hello Hermione, you look lovely as always."


	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note:** Huge thanks to every single person who takes the time to favourite, alert, and review. It warms my heart that so many people are still interested in my Lumione. I just wanted to let you know that this chapter does take direct references and quotations from the novel, _Prisoner of Azkaban_ by Queen Rowling.

* * *

 **Thirty-Five – "Foul… Evil…"**

"What's the matter, Hermione? Haven't got anything to say to your old school friend, after all these years?"

"It's hardly a reunion, Draco," Hermione replied stiffly, her hands still gripping the wooden dining chair. She felt that she had a good purchase on it, and if needs be, she could throw it at him. It would probably be smashed within seconds and then he would be on her, but at least it bought her the tiniest sliver of time.

"A private reunion, then. Maybe we could have dinner, share a glass of wine? You seem awfully fond of this room." His eyes slid to her hands. "Father spent so many Galleons remodelling this room – to try and take away the Dark Lord's presence. Do you think he succeeded?"

"Why are you doing this?" she said, her voice dropping. She was no longer feeling confident, especially since he started moving towards her. He still had that same old strut and swagger that he had during their school years, and yet now, he seemed much more predatory. The wizard was a danger to not only her, but Muggles and other members of the magical community. The man broke out of Azkaban and killed his comrade - she could never forget that!

"Always looking for answers, aren't you? Still have that same old thirst for knowledge, don't you?"

"Answer the question." He was so close to her that he could reach out and touch her.

"You'll see soon enough. I find that a visual demonstration would be better than verbal. I know you'll agree." He closed the distance, pressing his body against hers. She shivered, reaching out her hands to push him away, but he caught them, holding them above her head. She felt him wiggling her engagement ring around, before it slid off her finger and into his grasp. She tried to knee him, but he had already moved. "You didn't lose your fighting spirit I see. Is that how you caught my father's eye?"

"I don't know what your father sees in me, but you need to let me go. Right now."

"In a minute. Let me get a good look at you." His eyes searched her face, and she continued to struggle in his grip. His eyes were so like Lucius', and if she stared intently into the depths she could be lost. "You're all grown up now, aren't you? We're not the gangly teenagers we once were."

"You haven't changed. You're still a terrifying monster, masquerading as human."

"Words can hurt, Hermione." He dipped his head and inhaled the scent of her. "I can smell your fear. Why are you scared of me?"

"I know what you've done. You're sick. You're going to do it to me – I heard you and Peter out there-"

"Oh Peter's always running his mouth. I know he ran it in your common room once or twice. Think he thought you could be intellectual equals, but there's only one person who could be that. And that person," he squeezed her wrists tightly, so that she squeaked in pain, the jewel on the ring scratching her skin, "is me. Accio Penseive."

The Penseive sailed towards the table, where it skidded to a stop before Hermione's chair. Draco pulled her forwards, lifting her with ease. Panic overwhelmed her and she felt tears spill along her cheeks – what was he planning? She needed to stop him before he hurt not only her and Lucius, but his unborn baby brother or sister. She opened her mouth, a cry escaping her when he depositied her roughly into the chair, and pocketed her ring.

His eyes gleamed, as he took her hand, so they were now both reaching for the bowl of silvery memories.

"Draco, please don't do this!"

"You need to see," he said simply, jabbing the swirling mass with the tip of his wand.

"See what?" Memories were coming closer as their entwined hands hovered above the bowl.

"What you did to me." Their hands sunk into the bowl, and Hermione's world spun.

* * *

Hermione's feet met solid ground, and she drew in a great breath.

"Hogwarts," she whispered. There before her, was the castle, looming as great as ever, the bright sunlight highlighting the beautiful grounds. The greenhouses were a short walk away, and although she knew he was not here, she felt the overwhelming urge to run to Lucius. She started to walk forwards, but was jerked back. Draco Malfoy was still holding her hand.

"This way," he said, jerking his head to the side. Hermione knew that running away in a memory was useless. She would be trapped here until the memory ended and even then, she would only be transported back to the Manor, where she would surely be killed like those Muggle girls.

The pair walked up the sloping grounds, heading towards the castle when she caught a familiar sight. The great figure of the gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Rubeus Hagrid was loping along, his heavy head hanging almost onto his chest. At his side were three familiar figures – the black haired Harry Potter, red haired Ron Weasley, and…

Hermione blushed – she hadn't quite realised what her hair had looked like from the back. The brown curls were everywhere!

Draco urged them forwards, so they were walking on the other side of Hagrid. Before them, the rest of their class were ambling along to class. Hermione could see the thick figures of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle flanking the platinum haired boy that could only be Draco.

"What year was this?" Hermione asked politely, thinking of all the times that Hagrid had escorted classes.

"Third," Draco replied.

Hermione watched as the memory unfurled.

"… _An' then Lucius Mafoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em…"_

" _There's still the appeal!" said Ron fiercly. "Don't give up yet, we're working on it!"_

"This was the year you were attacked by the Hippogriff," Hermione said softly, remembering how much time and effort she spent helping Hagrid prepare for the case, writing neat notes for him to read, helping him to practice his speech. She even helped him wash and take care of his horrible hairy brown suit, whilst Buckbeak stamped outside in the vegetable patch, before he was brought inside to lay on Hagrid's bed.

"In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have been such a tosser. I was told after all. Then again, if it hadn't happened..." he trailed off.

"You were always a tosser," she muttered, but she felt him squeeze her hand hard. He had definitely heard that.

The pair had reached the castle doors and the memory continued.

" _Look at him blubber! Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he's supposed to be our teacher!"_

Hermione watched as her thirteen year old self broke apart from her friends, her hand stretching out and slapping thirteen year old Draco Malfoy across the face. There was a distinct echo in the hallways, as the memory of Draco staggered backwards with the force. Everyone looked startled, as memory Hermione rose her hand again.

" _Don't you_ dare _call Hagrid pathetic, you foul – you evil-"_

" _Hermione!"_

Ron had reached for her, trying to grab her hand. Hermione watched as she swung out of her friends grip, shouting at him to get off of her, as she pulled her wand free. She pointed it directly at Malfoy's face.

" _C'mon!"_

Memory Draco, Crabbe and Goyle hurried further into the castle, and Hermione found herself being pulled along behind them. The memory swirled around them, the familiar corridors stretching out before her, before transforming into the damp, dreary Hogwarts dungeons. Memory Draco shoved the boy's bathroom door open, barking orders for his friends to stay outside.

Hermione had never been inside a boy's bathroom before, but was surprised to find it still appeared like the girl's did. She hoped there wasn't an unsettling ghost here, or that Moaning Myrtle wouldn't pop her head up as she had been known to do. The bathroom was surprisingly clean, with no water or soap splashed across the floor. There wasn't even toilet paper to stand in so she had no fear of it being stuck to her tights.

Hermione watched as memory Draco clutched at the sides of the white porclian sink, his body shaking. The cheek she had slapped was glowing a vicious red. She had more strength and anger than she had ever thought. In fact, looking back, she had not cared that she had resorted to physical violence to solve her problems. Memory Draco was muttering unintelligible words under his breath, his hand rising to touch the reddened cheek every so often. As his eyes raised to the mirror, he started to lightly caress the mark, his mouth hanging open in wonder.

" _Hermione Granger…"_

One of memory Draco's hands stayed on his face, his caresses as light as ever, whereas the other hand startled to snake its way down his chest, towards his trousers, where he struggled to undo his leather belt.

"That's enough," the real Draco murmured in her ear. She hadn't realised she had been stood stock still, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide, staring at what was unfolding.

The memory dissolved in front of her, the swirls moving fast as the pair skyrocketed upwards, and Hermione's feet found solid ground once more. She was still sat in the dining room chair, the Penseive before her, the mass of memories stilling.

"Why did you show me that?" she asked softly, her hand stinging as if she had slapped him all over again.

"That's where it all started," he said, perching himself on the edge of the dining table. His eyes roved over her, taking every part of her in.

"What started?" She swallowed the hard lump that rose in her throat, although she had a feeling that she already knew the answer, and wouldn't like it one bit.

"My obsession with you."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter Thirty-Six – Object of Desire**

Hermione couldn't breathe. She was well aware that Draco was staring down at her, expecting some retort, some protest, or some question. She seemed frozen in the chair, unsure of what to do or say. His words had stunned her worse than any spell could, making everything seem much worse than it already was. She wished she had her wand. Draco might know more dark magic than her, but she was a competent duellist. If she was armed, it would be a fair fight, but of course, things were never that easy. He wouldn't want her to have a chance.

"Why?" she whispered finally, her bottom lip quivering. She was afraid of the answer. Her hands wrapped around her stomach, protecting her unborn child from what he was going to say. Her eyes lingered on her bare finger. Without her engagement ring, she felt as if a part of her was missing. She truly loved Lucius, more than she had thought it was possible to love another person, and now, he was not here. Every part of her knew though that he was trying to find her, he was rallying an arm of epic proportions to save her.

"Because you're Hermione Jean Granger, the smartest witch to grace Britain in centuries! I know the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Ravenclaw, don't deny it. It's your sense of adventure that called out to Godric Gryffindor – the desire to be brave, stalwart and true. There's a spark in your eyes, a fire in your belly, and if that doesn't turn a man on, I don't know what does."

"So know you're going to flatter me, to get me to like you or something? Is that it?"

"You make me sound like the villain, petal-"

Hermione stood up so fast that the chair toppled over, crashing against the floor. Stepping around the mess, she pointed her finger at the man, digging it hard into his chest with each word she said.

"You do not get to call me that – ever!"

"Touched a nerve, did I? I bet that's not all my father has touched." Draco smirked down at her.

"It's none of your business what your father has or hasn't touched." She knew her cheeks were flushed now. "Just know this, you will never get a chance to."

"You're very confident in the abilities of a Death Eater, aren't you?"

"Ex!" she spat back, that Gryffindor temper spiking.

"He was the Dark Lord's right hand for many a year. He knows spells and secrets that you could only dream of using. It would turn your world upside down-"

"You've done a very good job of that already!"

"I could do more – just like you have to me! You're all I've ever been able to think about and then, you dance on the edges of my mind, taunting me, invading my dreams. Is it any wonder I went crazy? Seeing those girls in Oxfordshire - they were so like you. Haven't you realised that? I saw brown hair - I thought of you, how it would look on a pillow next to me, have my fingers run through it. And they were all so damn smart!" He threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "I just wanted to forget you for one night. Be with one of them to banish you from my life, see if that would work. But it didn't, did it? It made me worse when the crashing realisation came that they were not you. No one would ever be you, or hold a candle to you ever!"

His eyes flashed as he shoved her back by the shoulders. Her feet slid from beneath her, and one of her knees smashed into the floor. She staggered upright as he jumped from the table, advancing towards her. Baiting him like that had not won her any favours, but it had given her an idea. She remembered something she had seen in a film about heroes and villains.

She needed to get him to keep talking, stall him for as long as she could.

"What did I ever do to you to make you like this? Answer me honestly Draco, you owe me that much."

"You saw in the memory in the Penseive, didn't you? That was when I realised what my feelings for you actually were. Who knew all it took was one little slap, eh? Don't get me wrong though, you always caught my eye, ever since I saw you in classes. That wild untamed hair as you bent over your books, your hand so straight. I even considered asking if you wanted to study with me, but I knew I couldn't. You were a Gryffindor, you were friends with Saint Potty and the bloody Weasel. And my father, the man you seem so enamoured with, had always taught me that I shouldn't associate with people of your blood type."

"You didn't find it so hard to associate or call Peter that," she interjected, as she slid her foot back slowly. If she was careful, she could get out of this room, and get out of here somehow.

"Peter knew what he was getting into when he approached me in Azkaban. He knew what I was, who I was, what could happen to him. He's the one that thought about actually being friends with me, in the hopes of revenge. Did you know that's what he wanted revenge on you for? And it was all over books and learning!" Draco laughed. "There's only one Muggleborn I would want to be more than friends with."

"You've changed your tune. You know as well I as I do that I'm a Mudblood. You made it perfectly clear when the Chamber was opened." This should set him talking again… She slid back again, keeping eye contact the whole time.

"For all intents and purposes, I had to make sure that no one suspected that I was starting to like you. Words can hurt, I know that, especially after the Weasel found himself burping slugs." Draco smirked at the memory, but as quick as it had appeared, the smirk was gone. "I couldn't sleep or eat that night, that word forever damning me and hurting you. And I had to be convincing, I had to make sure that everyone thought I was nothing but a Malfoy. I bet no one told you that I came to visit you in the hospital wing after curfew."

Hermione slid back another step, her mouth hanging open. "What?"

"No, I guess no one did. Did they? I sneaked up out of the dungeons, knowing that Snape would always get me out of trouble if I was caught. People were convinced that it was me that opened the Chamber once you were attacked - no one would have thought Saint Potty capable of hurting you. It was easy to move through the castle undetected." He took a step forward as if demonstrating, and Hermione slid back again. "I got through those doors, tiptoed past those other people who had been petrified until you were there in front of me. You looked like a statue, your perfect body frozen, your hand outstretched. It was as if you were waiting for me - a princess in a Muggle fairy tale. I kissed your knuckles, and left you flowers. Didn't you get them? They were roses, petal, red roses. The colour of passion. Desire. That's what you were - what you are. The object of my desire."

Hermione let her hand move behind her, feeling for the doorknob.

"And of course, I knew I was falling for you. And then you had to turn up with Viktor bloody Krum to the Yule Ball. He knew that I was considering asking you – to mend the feud between us, between the houses. He knew all this because we used to sit together for dinner in the Great Hall. When he told me that you had accepted his proposal, I considered cursing him so badly that he would have been out of the competition for good! And when you walked down those stairs, when you strode in with him looking like a million Galleons, I thought my heart would stop. When I danced with Pansy, kissed Pansy, I imagined it was you in my arms. I wanted to cut in, steal a dance, but of course, you were with him all night. And then of course, the Dark Lord returned and – hey, get away from there!"

Hermione's hand clasped onto the door handle. In seconds, she had yanked it open, and had thrown herself through the gap. Dodging the lifeless body of Peter Matthew, she raced along the hallway, ducking as a curse was fired in her direction.

"Don't make me hurt you Hermione!" Draco yelled, and threw another curse.

Hermione tried to duck out of the way, but knew she would be too late. She cried out, but a solid wall blocked the curse. It ricocheted off the shield charm, bounced from the wall and smashed an elegant vase. Arms surrounded her, drawing her close, one hand smoothing her hair, as a tear escaped and her stomach twinged.

"You will not hurt anyone anymore, son," a calm voice said.

Lucius Malfoy had arrived.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter Thirty-Seven – Sins of the Father**

Lucius' screams of terror, panic and heartache rang out clear over the grounds of Hogwarts. Students in Hogsmeade had even heard his cries of anguish, and for a moment, the older students believed that a terrible danger had befallen the school once again. That the man who had named himself Lord Voldemort was back. Staring back towards the school, they realised that the Dark Mark was not above it, and that they were safe. They turned back to their friends and groaned when Christmas was mentioned. It was too early to talk about that kind of stuff…

Minerva McGonagall, Reki Kojima and Neville Longbottom were the first three to find Lucius in the grounds. He had sunk onto the ground, curling himself up into a ball. His hands were buried in his hair which had come loose from its usual ribbon. A red flush had crept up his neck and across his face, as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Lucius? Lucius, whatever has happened to you?" Minerva crouched beside him, bringing a handkerchief out of her robe sleeve. She tried to push it into his hands, but his fists were so tightly clenched together that it was no use.

"Lucius? Come on, talk to us, we can help!" Neville surveyed the scene, stopping with a puzzled expression on his face. "Why are the gates open? It's not time yet!"

"He was here," Lucius managed to whisper. "He was here and now he has her. He's taken her away from me!"

"Who?" Neville asked, before turning to Minerva. "Who's missing?"

"Lucius, come along inside. We'll get you to Poppy, check you over and we can go over what's happened-"

Lucius pushed Minerva's hand from his shoulders, lurching upright.

"I do not have time for this Minerva. I do not need to be poked and prodded, and coddled like a child. I am fine – but my son won't be when I get my hands on him!"

"Your son? What is happening, Lucius?" Reki Kojima looked as puzzled as could be.

"He's here?" Minerva asked, her voice no higher than a whisper.

"He was. And he has Hermione."

Minerva's face paled as Lucius told the story. He had been going to check the grounds for some plants that could be dried out and crushed for potions classes. He hadn't even realised the students at the gates didn't belong at the school until it was too late. His own son had used the Imperius Curse – forced him to bring Hermione to the gates, and unlock them. They had gone past the protective wards, wards that would also stop people being able to Apparate or Disapparate. Once he had her, he was gone.

"Let us think about this rationally, shall we Lucius? I understand that Hermione is very special to you – she is going to be your wife and bear you a child." Reki Kojima had started pacing. "Why do you think he has taken her?"

Lucius sighed. Strands of white hair clung to his fingers. He had been an idiot – he had failed his son. He had been such an idiot to pass on his grandfather's teachings, he had been such a fool as to follow a man who had never been able to tell the truth, he had been a coward and a failure! Sins of the father had never been a truer phrase.

"He's been in prison. Convicted of killing Muggles – in the early days of his imprisonment and trial he would always say that it was because he was supreme, that he was more powerful than Muggles could ever hope to be. The Dark teachings had been ingrained in him more than I had ever thought. And Hermione worked with the case. She did some digging – shared her feelings with me. She thought that she was a target, that he wanted revenge on her for her parentage. Oh Merlin's beard, Minerva, he has her and she's pregnant! She could lose the baby…" Lucius trailed off, his words running dry.

Reki Kojima started to pace once more, fiddling with his glasses as he stomped across the grounds. "Where would he have taken her?"

"There's Hogsmeade, but that's way too close for comfort. My son used to be in the top ten of his classes when he was here, but he wouldn't risk going back into the village. I think it's where he's been holing up – it makes sense after all."

Minerva held out her wand and called forth her Patronus. She sent the silver tabby cat into the village, urging anyone that had seen them to come forwards. "We should call the Auror's too. Potter will have the whole force out looking for them."

Realisation hit Lucius like a hippogriff. He knew exactly where she would be.

"My son always spoke about returning home. How he would rule the Manor one day – turn it over. It was the place where his aunt tortured and scarred Hermione, and learnt magic under someone else's tutelage. It was the place he was born, and it was the place where he was arrested."

"Isn't he smarter than that though? Returning home? Wouldn't it be the first place you would inspect?" Minerva asked, adjusting her robes.

"That's what he's planning. He might be a smart wizard academically, but he is ruled by his emotions. It was part of the reason he was chosen to kill Albus. Not only would it hurt myself and Narcissa, but it would also cripple him to the point of breaking down. Committing suicide... He is ruled by his heart, not his head in circumstances like this." Lucius brushed the dirt from his robes. "Minerva, contact the Auror Office. Tell them to get to Malfoy Manor as soon as possible. People are in danger."

His fellows called out to him as he strode out of the open gates, turned once on the spot and thought of home. Home where his witch was waiting for him to rescue her. Where his unborn child continued to grow like flowers in the gardens. Where his son was raging war upon his own family.

Lucius landed within the grounds, striding up the gravel driveway. The white peacocks kept well away, and his magic crackled like static around him. He could hear bangs and crashes from inside the Manor and a feminine cry.

Flinging open the Manor doors, he could see the disaster zone. His son was flinging curses left, right and centre, aiming for Hermione all the time. She looked to be in one piece, but he wasn't risking anything her safety or the child's now that he was there. He flung out a shield charm at the right time, using his free arm to cradle Hermione close towards him.

One of his favourite vases smashed. That was a pity, but it was replaceable. Human lives were not.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter Thirty-Eight – Trial and Retribution**

When the reporters from The Daily Prophet got hold of the story, it became front page news. It was a sensational story of tragedy, love and jealousy. Well, that was how the reporters were putting a spin on it. Hermione and Lucius were both quite frankly sick of hearing about it, even though they were heavily involved. They wanted things to return to normal, but that would be a long time coming.

Back at Malfoy Manor, curses had continued to fly. In fact with Lucius' arrival, Draco seemed more intense than he had before. Hermione had always considered herself a good duelist, but watching father and son, she knew she would never be in their league. Both knew each other strategies, so each curse, disarming spell or stunner was met with equal force and protection. Draco had sworn like a fishwife the whole way through, trying to taunt and bait his father with words. Hermione had to clamp her hands over her ears – she did not want to hear what his plans had been for her.

It was when Harry and a team of Auror's arrived at the Manor thirty minutes or so later, that the fight drew to a standstill. Both men sported injuries, but luckily, none were too serious. Draco had been overpowered, and although he could have shielded himself against the stunners, he hadn't bothered to. He simply took them as they came, crumpling to the floor. Stretchers had been conjured from thin air, and Draco was bound tightly to them. Harry assured everyone that a set of Auror's would remain at his side whilst treatment was administered at St. Mungo's. Then, he would be taken into custody, where he would await trial.

And that's when the reporters descended.

In the weeks leading upto the trial, Lucius had not left her side. Whilst the Manor had been closed off for investigation and the removal of Peter Matthew's body and subsequent funeral, Hermione and Lucius had returned to Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey had confined Hermione to bed rest in the hospital wing for three days straight. The matron was happy to report that baby was completely fine, although it was still unsure whether it would be a boy or a girl. Hermione had been startled to see a tiny bump forming on her stomach, and her chest tightened. She was carrying life.

When Hermione was allowed to return to her quarters, she had never slept more soundly. Lucius had been attentive, taking on some of Hermione's duties by opening and closing the library for her. When she was unable to get to the Great Hall, he bought her meals to her bedside table, along with the matcha tea that she had become fond of. He read aloud to her from books whilst she soaked for long periods in the bath, and stroked her hair when she slept.

"I almost lost you once, I can't go through that again. I love you so much petal," Lucius whispered against her skin as he towel dried her.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry." Hermione had kissed him then, a kiss that rivalled all of their previous ones.

In the first week of December, when Christmas decorations had started arriving at the school, Hermione and Lucius received a joint letter from the Wizengamot. It asked that they to be in attendance for Draco's trial which would be held on the upcoming Saturday.

When Saturday arrived, Hermione dressed slowly and carefully. The evening before she had slept fitfully, her head aching with echoes of the past. Lucius had held her all night long and dried her tears when she cried. When she rose that morning, she took a shower to brush the horrible thoughts away, intent on preparing herself for the long day ahead. She chose clothes to accentuate her growing bump, and Lucius braided her hair back for her, finishing it with a red ribbon. She hated that the court still had possession of her engagement ring, but once the trial was over, she would be able to get it back. Her finger felt naked without it, especially when Lucius planted a kiss upon the space every night before she drifted into sleep.

Lucius had chosen careful clothes too. He dressed all in black, including his own hair ribbon. He even brought out his cane, gripping its silver top tightly as they used the Floo Network in Minerva's office.

Upon arrival at the Ministry where the trial was to take place, Hermione and Lucius were met by Harry in his Auror's robes, and Ginny who looked like she had spent all evening crying as well. Ronald had also arrived, to Hermione's surprise. Jeannette hung off his arm, sporting a glowing tan and shoes that were more suited to the bedroom that a courtroom. When the pleasantries had been exchanged, a high ranking Ministry official escorted the group down the courtroom – one that had been newly refurbished, although the prisoners chained chair still remained. Lucius recoiled slightly at the sight of it, but Hermione squeezed his hand. She hadn't been the only one to suffer nightmares at the thought of being here.

The group were led to a selection of seats on a raised platform that had been placed before the prosecutors, defenders and the judge, the Minister for Magic, Kinglsey Shacklebolt.

"Are you okay?" Lucius whispered, squeezing Hermione's hand.

She couldn't open her mouth for fear of being sick. Instead, she nodded.

Slowly the room began to fill up with witches and wizards. They filed into their rows, and finally Kingsley swept into the room. He settled himself in his seat, parchment, quill and ink before him. His robes were a rich deep purple inlaid with gold, the official robes that were given to each new Minister. He only wore them on special occasions. The trial of the century was clearly a big event. Even a few reporters had been allowed in.

The doors creaked open at the far end, and Draco Malfoy shuffled forwards, his arms and legs bound in chains, his clothes in tatters and a bruises forming around his eye.

Hermione swallowed as Draco sat down, his eyes meeting hers instantly.

* * *

The court did not need to draw out the horrendous events that had previously occurred. Hermione and Lucius both took to the witness stand to testify against Draco. Everyone who took to the stand had to take Veritaserum, the truth potion.

When Hermione found herself telling everyone how the Muggle women were connected to herself, she saw Ginny burst into tears and bury her head in Harry's robes. Ronald had turned white.

Lucius, meanwhile, admitted his faults with his son, but could not forgive him for his current actions.

Draco appeared to show no remorse, and when he was finally permitted to tell the court his version of events, he had finally found the words to tell Hermione what he had longed to say for several years: "I love you."

Hermione had to run from the courtroom, not wanting to know anymore. Ginny and Jeannette found her being sick in the ladies toilets.

Lucius, on the other hand, had to be restrained by not only Harry and Ronald, but other members of the court.

When Hermione had re-entered, and Lucius had calmed down, Kingsley Shacklebolt was prepared to deliver the verdict.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you have pleaded guilty to all charges brought against you. It is my duty to inform you that the court assembled here finds you guilty. Tomorrow at noon, you will be brought back into this room where you will be submitted to the Dementor's Kiss. Afterwards, you will be taken back to Azkaban, where you will spend the rest of your life in solitary confinement. Guards, take him away."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter Thirty-Nine – Saying Goodbye**

"Lucius Malfoy, here to see Draco Malfoy." Lucius tapped his cane in a steady rhythm as the wizard on guard duty checked his name against a thick bundle of parchment.

"Have you permission from the Minister, sir?" the guard asked nervously, the tip of the quill tickling underneath his chin. The man looked as if he had just left Hogwarts – he had a pimpled face and wore ill-fitting robes. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere but here.

"Permission?"

"It's just that Mr Malfoy is a high level security prisoner, especially with the sentencing in an hour's time and-"

"You're going to deny a father five minutes alone with his son?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, and watched as the guard wizard took a step back in shock. He dropped the parchment all of the floor.

"Oh sorry sir, right away sir. I meant no disrespect."

"Not at all." Lucius kept a civil tongue. He had promised Hermione he would do this, and he had also sworn that he would be on his best behaviour.

The guard waved his wand, sending the parchment back into a nice neat bundle. He then tapped the locks on the cell door several times, murmuring various enchantments under his breath. Finally, he extracted a large silver key and slid it into the lock. The mechanisms sprang loose inside, and the door swung open.

"My condolences, sir." The guard wizard stood aside to let Lucius enter. He bristled at the youngsters attitude - nothing had happened yet. His stomach twisted unpleasantly.

The room was sparsely furnished. A single mattress on a metal bedframe with a simple white cotton sheet. A small window showing a variety of feet that moved past along Ministry corridors, tempting the prisoners with the outside world, and what they could have had if they had obeyed the rules. The floor was cold and tiled, whereas the walls were plain stone, with etchings that others had left behind. The room was cut in half by a set of iron bars, making the prisoner's side even smaller. Draco was sat on the bed, staring into space as Lucius moved close to the bars.

"Father," Draco said simply.

"Hello son."

"Come to gloat, have you? You've finally gotten your way. Hermione is yours. I will regret to inform you that I will not be able to attend the wedding ceremony." A smug smirk was already on his face.

"Draco, please, I did not come to pick a fight."

"Why did you come then?"

"I came because I need to tell you that I'm sorry."

Draco jerked up off the bed. He strode to the bars, slamming his fists into them. He didn't flinch at the impact, although it must have hurt.

"You're sorry? After all this time, you're sorry?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't a very good father to you. I'm sorry that I forced the old ways onto you. I'm sorry I did not take the time to get to know you properly, to show that you could go your own way in life. You're my son, Draco, no matter what happens. I'll always love you, and always have since you were but a babe in your mother's arms."

"Pretty words through iron bars, father. Mother said virtually the same when she came to visit this morning," Draco sneered, his upper lip curling, though his eyes softened as he stared at Lucius. His bottom lip wobbled for a moment, before he cleared his throat. "Just do me one thing though. A last request, if you will."

"And what's that son?"

"Stay with me when it happens."

Underneath all of Draco's hard exterior, his pompous attitude and murderous convictions, he was still his son. He was a Malfoy, through and through. And more than anything, he was still a child. He needed guidance. Lucius slipped a hand through the bars and gripped his son's forearm. He swore to himself he would not make the same mistakes again.

"Of course."

* * *

When the Ministry clocks chimed twelve midday, two strict looking Auror's entered the room. Lucius stepped aside as Draco's cell was unlocked, and his cuffs were replaced around his wrists and ankles. Draco didn't kick up a fuss - in fact, he politely gave his thanks to the men. Lucius stayed two steps behind the Auror's as his son was led back to the court room he had experienced the day before. It was not as full as the day of the trial as there were only a select few people who had been permitted to attend, including Narcissa and her new husband Silvano, who were both clutching handkerchiefs, and trying to maintain a sense of composure.

Harry and Ginny, along with Ronald and Jeannette were at the other end of the same row, all wearing black as a mark of respect. They bowed their heads to Lucius as he passed them.

In the centre of the row, was Kingsley, once more dressed in his official purple robes.

Between Narcissa and Kingsley, was Hermione. She had a calm expression, but Lucius knew her better than others. She was fiddling with her engagement ring, twisting it around and around her finger nervously. She had also spoken with Draco, although Lucius did not know what had passed between them.

Lucius stood aside as Draco was strapped into the chair. His hand was on his wand, ready. The Auror's took their positions at either end of the raised dais, and cast the Patronus charm to protect the occupants. An octopus and an eagle flew from the tips. It wasn't long before a stag joined them. Lucius caught Harry's eyes. The young wizard smiled softly, and Lucius was grateful.

There was no preamble, no final words. Kingsley did not rise from his seat as he clapped once and a cage descended from the ceiling on creaking iron chains. Inside as a Dementor, as black as night, as hideous as ever as its cloak swished about its body. The cage door creaked open as it met the floor, and without waiting for instruction, it glided towards Draco. Draco stared down the Dementor, a hard expression on his face. It was only when the hood began to be lowered that Lucius cast his Patronus. A silvery fox slid from the tip, winding itself around Lucius' legs, keeping him rooted to the spot, as the Dementor performed the unspeakable act – the Dementor's Kiss.

Draco did not scream. Draco did not fight. Draco simply let his soul be taken.

When the deed was done, the Dementor pulled its hood back into place, and slid back into the cage, where it was once more hoisted into the air. Out of sight, and out of mind. On the dais, many sobs and nose blows could be heard, along with the heavy footsteps of the Auror's as they came closer. They untied Draco's restraints, and hoisted the pale, withdrawn figure to his feet, out of the chair.

"One moment, please." Lucius stepped before his son. Minutes after the Kiss, Draco appeared sickly, as pale as death. His eyes were unfocused, and even his lips seemed chapped. He blinked at Lucius oddly, as if seeing him for the first time. "Goodbye, son. I love you."

Slowly, Lucius pressed a kiss to his son's forehead, before a tiny popping noise told him that he had been Disapparated back to Azkaban prison, where he would live out his days, as a shell of the man he once was.

A tear slid down Lucius' face as he stared at the chair which had once held his son.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter Forty – Epilogue**

Eleanor Jean Malfoy entered the world screaming, on 31 May, at 5:23a.m. She weighed 6lb, 14 ounces. She was delivered at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the Hospital Wing, by Madam Pomfrey, who would enjoy telling the tale for years to come. Hermione had gone into labour when she was locking the library doors the previous evening, and when her contractions started, she knew she needed a familiar face. Luckily, Lucius had been waiting for her outside like normal, and without waiting, he had her in the hospital wing, calling for help. Hermione's birth was not difficult, although she felt as if she were being split into two pieces. Lucius had been there every step of the way, bathing her sweaty forehead, clutching her hand, and telling her constantly how brave she was, and how good she was doing.

Eleanor was the first baby to be born within the castle grounds, and as such, was treated with great respect. Many of the moving portraits and ghosts came to visit the baby and to wish the exhausted, but happy parents all the best for the future. Even Peeves had brought a bunch of flowers and said the baby was alright, as far as babies went.

The staff were thrilled to see the newborn, and bought many gifts.

Professor Reki Kojima had become a firm friend to both Hermione and Lucius. As tradition dictated in his culture, he gifted Eleanor 100 Galleons, delivered in a fancy red velvet gift bag. Hermione and Lucius were stunned by the generosity. Hermione kissed the wizard's cheek, making him blush. Lucius simply settled for a rare hug, and they made arrangements to go out for a drink in Hogsmeade soon.

Minerva had bought Eleanor a toy cat with a tabby fur, complete with strange markings around the eyes. Hermione had thanked her hundreds of times over, and proceeded to cry all over again. Minerva cancelled all classes that day to the delight of the students, and a feast was held in the babes honour.

Neville had opened a new greenhouse for seedlings, a nursery so to speak, and named it Eleanor's House. Hermione blushed such a deep shade of red that she could have blended in with the Gryffindor wall hangings. Lucius had dragged the man to the pub to wet the babies head, along with Kojima.

Neville delivered another gift at the bar - he wanted to keep Lucius on as an Assistant Professor, maybe train him up to be fully fledged. Lucius had felt like his head and heart would burst with joy.

Eleanor was a happy baby. She had honey coloured hair, and beautiful blue eyes. Hermione was convinced that the eyes would change colour within a few days, and felt her bookish learning was against her, when weeks later, Eleanor still the same blue hues. She was a contented baby, crying only when she wished to be fed, or changed, and on occasion, when she did not want to be bathed. Hermione was able to breast feed and nothing brought her greater joy than to prop herself in a comfortable chair, with her baby. She felt like this time brought them closer together, and often told her Muggle fairy tales when she was drifting off to sleep.

When Eleanor woke during the night, it was Lucius who saw to her needs. He changed her, fed her from bottles, and amused her with light shows from his wand. He told her firmly that she was not going to be allowed a boyfriend until she was a fully qualified witch, and that was only if she was lucky. He told Eleanor of the family and friends she already had, and also of her big brother, Draco. Maybe one day she would be able to meet him, if that was what she wanted. Eleanor would gurgle happily, and Lucius would put her back in her Moses basket, and curl up beside Hermione.

* * *

When Eleanor was a year old, she was dressed in a set of dainty dress robes, and attended a very important ceremony. She didn't remember much of it and was not amused. She was content to be in her fancy pushchair, cuddling her toy cat that had been nicknamed Minnie - Min, for short.

Hermione and Lucius remembered the day very well.

On 1 June, Hermione and Lucius were married in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The room was decorated with beautiful silver and purple decorations. All students were invited to attend since classes were cancelled that day. Many family and friends of the bride and groom were also in attendance, and Harry had to nervously flatten his hair as people stared at his forehead. Hermione's parents had even been able to attend, once all the charms and arrangements were in place. They had been astounded and even jealous that Hermione was able to spend so much of her time here.

There was a great feast, and as Hermione and Lucius said their vows, they knew they could be happy at last. They had each other, they had their daughter. They had family and friends, and good jobs. Nothing could darken the day.

Hermione wore traditional white dress robes, her hair coiled on the top of her head. Lucius was resplendent in black, with a white rose in his buttonhole. They had photographs in the grounds after the ceremony, before the dancing commenced. Even the ghosts made an appearance, and Peeves was on his best behaviour, playing hide the boiled egg with Eleanor - it always went in his mouth, but she giggled every time.

The family had decided they were going to Paris on their honeymoon, and of course, they were taking Eleanor with them. They spent a week exploring the beautiful city, eating in fancy restaurants. The wizarding hotel they stayed in catered for their every need, and it was here that Eleanor showed her first sign of magic. It wasn't every day that a baby clapped her hands and accidentally summoned a pillow from across the room. Hermione sent Minerva a letter, and with that, Eleanor Jean Malfoy would be going to Hogwarts when the time was right. Hermione had been worried, but according to every specialist she spoke to, this kind of behaviour with magic and babies was quite common.

Neither Hermione nor Lucius had not been looking for love when they found each other. There had been plenty of changes in both of their lives and things had not been easy for either of them. Lucius still felt the guilt over what had happened with his son, but knew he could change for his wife and daughter. He would make Cuba proud, bless her soul.

On the last day of their honeymoon, when Lucius was packing away their clothes and talking to Eleanor about anything under the sun, Hermione realised that her mother had been right all those Sunday lunches ago. If someone had told her when she was twelve years old, that the overpowering, snobbish man in Flourish and Blotts would be her husband, and father a child with her, she would have laughed. Now… She surveyed the scene from the bathroom doorway, a towel wrapped around her body.

Love had found her, when she least expected it. And what's more, she was happy.

 **The End**


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